The Color White
by Livelife20
Summary: What if Beta was never created? What if the Texas we know and love was never accidentally made as a byproduct of the Alpha? Would someone else be able to step into her shoes and change how the story goes? AU, OC, kind of. Hard to explain. T for swearing for now. Reviews are very much appreciated!
1. Prologue (1)

_Hey. So this idea came to me last night and so I wrote it! Depending on the kind of response I get from reviews I may or may not continue this. I have an idea and this "story" will either be a prologue or first chapter to a longer story. (Now that I think about it I may just continue this regardless but I want to know what you think!) _

* * *

The scenery was white.

The walls, chairs, tiled floors and ceiling in the small square room were all colorless. Even the few tiny windows seemed to let in only blinding white light. I had been sitting in the same, uncomfortable plastic chair for over an hour and all I could comprehend about my surroundings was how white it was.

It was pathetic really.

If I were a normal person, I would blame my lack of insightful thoughts on nerves. The nerves of someone waiting at the dentist's office for a root canal or something equally superficial. But, fortunately (or some would say unfortunately), I'm not a normal person. And this isn't the dentist's office.

Boredom would actually be a more outstanding culprit than anything else for my current state. The once occupied chairs lining three of the walls are now vacant, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Each one of the previous occupants were led through a white door (imagine that) on my immediate left to places unknown. And those places unknown are where I desperately want to be.

It seems like I have been waiting my whole life to be on the other side of that door. I have wanted this so much for so long that when it came to finally taking the tests, it almost felt like I had been going through another training exercise. Not even a real challenge in my opinion.

Thinking of the training suddenly reminds me of the casual clothing I'm in as well. The thin cotton t-shirt I was given after the tests feels like a feather against my hard frame. I glance down and realize that it is also the color of my current environment. I hadn't noticed before.

_Click!_

I'm out of my chair before the door fully opens to reveal a short but built man in the doorway.

"The Director will see you now." He says in a calm tone.

"Thank you Councelor." I say sincerely before he turns around a leads me down a narrow hallway.

I idly note that the hallway is just as white as the waiting room and decide that I never want to see the color ever again. Nothing in my existence will be the color white if I can help it.

"In here Miss." He says in the exact same tone as before and rather than answer him, I merely nod and walk in the door.

"Damnit." I say in such a low tone that the Director, sitting behind his desk, didn't even know I said anything.

His whole damn room didn't have a splash of color in it. Seriously, what was with these people and the color white?

I quickly compose myself and forget my bland surroundings as to not piss off the man in front of me though. I have been waiting too long for this moment and I almost screwed it up over his interior decorating tastes.

"Sir." I say as I salute at attention and wait for further instruction.

I glance down at him when he doesn't acknowledge me and notice that he is hunched over some papers, his pen furiously writing on one of them. His body is tense and I can tell that he does not have much patience at the present time, so I wait at attention.

Almost five minutes pass before he stops moving his pen and delicately places it next to, rather than inside his pen holder. He laces his thin fingers together and slowly lifts his head to look me in the eye and when he finally does...

He flinches.

The reaction confuses me, but I dare not move in fear of some sort of retribution.

"At ease." He says and I let my hand drop as he rifles through the many papers in front of him before he adds, "I'm sorry. It's just that you look like someone I know."

I want to give him a impertinent look but seeing as he is the Director and I his new recruit, I do nothing more than shift my weight to the other foot.

"Not many pass that test you know." He says when he finds the paper he is looking for.

Thinking he is talking about the advanced hand to hand combat I demonstrated, but not completely sure I question him, "Sir?"

He glances up from his reading, "The patience test."

I want to scoff at him and clarify that I am one of the least patient people on earth, but I hold back the usually unrestrained urge and speak clearly, "Thank you sir."

He doesn't answer as he reads over his paper once more before putting it down and standing up. His steps are graceful as he walks to the front of his desk and by extension, in front of me before offering his hand. I look down at his hand in curiosity and back up to his aging face for an explanation.

"Welcome to project Freelancer Agent Texas."

* * *

_Good? Bad? Should I even think about continuing this?_

_Please inform me of any mistakes :)_


	2. Prologue (2)

_Hey so this is kind of a part two of the prologue! I'll let the writing speak for itself but please realize that this is the prologue. This isn't the actual story yet. The real chapters will be longer, involve more characters, and be in more familiar territory._

* * *

The Mother of Invention was louder than I expected it to be. The whirring of its mechanics and screaming of its passengers arguing over something trivial were just a few things disrupting the otherwise quiet walk to my new quarters.

When our transport arrived in the ship's landing bay, two other recruits and myself were directed toward our new residence without a second's hesitation. I was puzzled for a moment when I was separated from the others and told to go in the other direction. The Director had told me that I was going to be trained in a unusual way, but I hadn't expected to have different quarters than the others.

"Hey there." A deep, kind voice from behind broke through my conscience, "Where you headed?"

I swiftly stop and glance over my shoulder to see a man clad in purple armor sauntering in my direction. I scowl slightly in annoyance and turn on him before answering, "My quarters."

He's caught up with me by now and stops an arms length away, a friendly air practically radiating off of him, "Are you a new recruit? I haven't seen you around here before."

My frustration with this stranger vanished when I noticed the genuine curiosity in his voice. I give him a small smile before answering, "Yeah."

"Always nice to see a new face." He says while offering his right hand, "I'm Agent North Dakota."

My smile is full blown by this point so I place my bare hand in his gloved one and we shake hands, "I'm—"

"_ALERT LEVEL ONE! RESISTANCE SHIP INCOMING!_" A disembodied voice bellowed through the speakers just as red lights began to flash all throughout the hall. I look up at Agent North Dakota, irritation etched across my face while he looks down at me and, I can't tell with his helmet on, but I think he smiles. I think he's laughing at me.

Asshole.

"Introductions later?" He yells over the alarms that are now sounding and I nod, "Good! Now go get your armor on!"

Before I can do or say anything else, he turns on his heel and sprints down the hall. I look thoughtfully after him for a moment before I turn around and sprint toward my room.

I make a few wrong turns and nearly tear by it, but I eventually make it to my quarters in one piece. The alarms screaming in my ear don't bother me as I swipe my key over the lock and open the door.

I do a quick once over of my new residence. There's a plain bunk in the back left corner and a small closet on the other side with metal desk placed next to it. I also notice another, larger door which must lead to a bathroom or something. I don't really care at the moment.

I dash to the closet door and wrench it open and can't help it when a bittersweet feeling floods through me. I found my armor.

But the damn thing was white.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Should I really be concerned about where this is going?_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	3. Chapter 1

_Hey so I've been pouring this this out like crazy the past couple days so let's just see how this goes shall we? Btw, reviews are very, VERY nice regardless of what they say._

* * *

_**One year later...**_

_"Make the jump!" The voice inside my head demanded but I refused to listen. The rocky gap was too large. I could never make it even with my armor on. _

_"You have to kill him, so make the jump you useless whelp!" The voice screeched again and I hesitated, looking at the gap one more time. No. There was no way I could make it._

_A General of the resistance was literally running for his life on the sand dunes just across the aperture. I recheck all my stores for anything I could use but I had already lost both my pistols and all three of my knives throughout the chase. Today was a terrible day to pack light. _

_"JUMP THE GAP TEXAS!" The voice no longer screeched, but instead bellowed into what seemed to be my very being. I suddenly felt Omega's rage and need for bloodshed as my own. Adrenaline began pumping through my body and before I knew it, I was running full speed toward the gap. _

_A rational part of my mind knew that this was a terrible idea but the combined forces of mine and Omega's rage left it cowering in a dark corner. I needed to get to the insurrectionist. I __**needed**__ to kill him._

_And so I jumped._

_This must of been what it felt like to fly. The weightlessness of my body seemed never ending as I drifted through the air. It was actually quite calming to my chaotic mind. I reached out to grab the rock ledge but realized too late that I would not make it to the other side. _

_My body slammed into the rock face and began tumbling into the abyss. I frantically extended my hands toward the nearest edge and was able to latch on to a boulder with my right hand. I was able to quickly stop my downward movement, but not before the whiplash of my body dislocated my shoulder._

_Agonizingly aware of this, I let out a cry of pain while my body continued to swing like a rag doll. Almost unconsciously, my left hand lunged up in the air to find a hold. I frantically searched until I found one and quickly shifted most of weight on it. Once steady, I pause and take in my surroundings._

_I only fell about 10 meters and it looked like bottom of the rift was about another 30. I turn my gaze upward and spot a ledge a few meters up and to my left. My shoulder chose then to throb painfully so I shifted my entire weight on my left arm this time. I looked around again for anything closer that I could climb to but had no luck. _

"_You have to kill him…" Omega's whisper is almost desperate. I let out a grunt of frustration and mentally prepared myself for the climb. This was going to hurt._

_**Crack!**_

_Alarm bells sound in my head and I feel the adrenaline rush through me again. I no longer notice the pain in my shoulder as I quickly try to climb off of this time bomb of a boulder. But it was in vain._

_I hear another loud crack before I'm in free fall again._

_The ground is getting too close too fast. The huge rock I had been gripping had dislodged itself from the rock face and was now following me down into the abyss. I tried again to find a grip but I couldn't control my fall fast enough to get the chance._

_I brace for impact._

I wake bolt upright in my bed and with a scream on my lips.

I am able to swallow it before it escapes as I leap out of my bed and sprint to the bathroom. I flip the lights on and crouch over the toilet thinking I'm about to vomit, but with nothing in my stomach, I begin to dry heave instead. I know that all I need to do to stop is control the panic flooding through me so I begin thinking of anything but that dream. Thankfully, after a short time I am able to lean away from the toilet and shakily stand up. I stumble the short distance to the sink and lean on the cool countertop.

I stay that way until my breathing becomes regular again. Once calm, I stand up straight and find myself looking in the mirror. I glare at the person staring back at me and note that they look terrible. I watch as the face softens and let out a defeated sigh before I run my left hand through my drenched boy cut, dark blonde hair.

I hadn't had that dream for a month. I thought I had gotten through it, thought I was past it. But obviously not.

I move my hand from my head to my collar bone and slide it under my shirt toward my right shoulder until my finger tips touch cold metal. I run my hand over the line where human ends and machine begins and feel saddened. When the boulder had crushed me, they had to replace my entire right arm with a visibly metal apparatus. They had to replace it with a fucking machine.

I slowly shake the familiar melancholy feeling and look at the clock on the countertop. It's numbers flashed and told me I was up half an hour earlier than I needed to be. Damn. That sucks.

I shrug to myself and begin getting ready for another day on The Mother of Invention.

... ... ... ... ... ...

What?

Did he just say what I think he said?

I glance over at the Counselor for conformation and notice that he has an annoyingly small smile on his face. I then look around the training ground in bewilderment for a moment until my gaze lands back on the blank face of the Director.

"Did you just say you're sending me in with a team?" I ask and tilt my head to show my disbelief seeing as my face was hidden by my white helmet, "I'm not sure—"

"I will decide what is sure and what isn't Texas." The Director cuts me off, "Besides, you won't actually be working with them."

I stare at him for a short time, unmoving, before I throw my hands in the air in exasperation, "What the _fuck_ does that even _mean_?"

He watches me as I begin to pace, "It means, Agent Texas, that they won't know you're there."

I stop pacing and look at him while unconsciously stretching my right shoulder, "Okay. Fine. Just explain to me what exactly I'm doing."

He smirks a little at my acceptance, "A small team will be infiltrating an insurrectionist base established on an oil platform." He pauses, and I nod to let him know I'm listening, "You will set up a sniper post on the ice caps surrounding it and provide cover fire for them if needed."

I nod again. Easy enough. I am about to speak but I shut my mouth when he starts talking again, "But only if it's absolutely necessary. I do not want you to get involved in any way unless the mission is about to fail. Understood?"

I raise my eyebrow beneath my helmet before answering, "Understood."

He gives me a jerky nod, "Good. You leave in an hour."

"Yes sir." I salute before he and the Counselor turn around and walk out of the training area, leaving me alone again.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Does this even make sense?_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	4. Chapter 2

_This is my first RvB, AU, and OC story so if I could have some feedback on any of these these topics it would be much appreciated!_

* * *

I lay flat on my stomach as I sweep the oil rig once again. No change.

I sigh a little as I watch a few of the guards casually walk around the in the dark through my scope. I had already given all the details of the platform to the Director and now all I had to do was wait for the team to come in. Correction, my team to come in.

The word sounded foreign in my mind. I hadn't been on a team since I had joined up on project Freelancer. After the Director had recruited me, he had isolated me from every other Freelancer in the program. The only interaction I'd ever had with another soldier was with North on my first day, and he didn't even get my name. I know of all of them, but he doesn't even know I exist anymore. None of them do.

From the moment he recruited me, I was to be Director's guinea pig for his AI fragment experiments. I don't know what he saw in me, but when the first fragment was created, he placed it in my head. Ironically, this fragment was also the first to try and be removed after the incident that caused my loss of limb. The only problem was that said fragment didn't want to be removed. Omega had jumped to other Freelancers without his hosts knowing and laid in wait until he was sure we would give him another chance. Then he jumped back into me.

The Director tried to make everything as normal as possible after that. I think he was afraid that I would back out of the program or something. He'd even made it so that my bionic arm could fit into, and be protected by my armor like it was still a real arm. And I suppose that did help a little. I sometimes forget that I'm missing an arm when I'm in my armor. It's almost like it was never gone.

That is, besides the fact that it's 10 times stronger than a regular arm. That's probably the only good that came out of the entire ordeal.

"Agent Texas." my communicator crackles to life to receive the Director's message.

"Go ahead sir." I say while forcing myself onto my knees. I'd been laying down for way too long.

"I've just finished debriefing the team." He starts, "Agents North and South will be infiltrating while Agent Carolina is going to wait by the helipad in case there are any problems with extraction. They'll be there in forty-five. In the mean time, I have something I need you to do."

I lift my rifle off the ground and rest it against my shoulder, "Of course sir."

"I need you to set up the extra explosives we placed in your transport on to the beams supporting the platform." There is a small pause before his voice breaks through again, "And I need you out of there and back at your post before the rest of the team gets there."

I glance in the direction of the oil rig then back at my single man ship with interest, "Consider it done."

"I already do." He answers before signing off.

... ... ... ... ...

My job was quick with the help of Omega who had wisely kept his mouth shut throughout the task. I think he finally understood that when he opens his mouth, I pull him. They had added in that helpful feature immediately after my little accident. I mean, the ability to turn it off? How had they not thought of that before? Sometimes, it truly baffles me.

There are times I feel bad for doing it though. Omega may be an angry asshole with a god complex, but he's my angry asshole with a god complex. He's the only constant that's ever really existed in my life.

"You ready for this South?" I nearly squeeze the trigger of my rifle in surprise when I hear what has to be North's voice breaking through my communicator.

"I should be asking you that." I hear what I assume to be South's retort.

I quickly flip the thermal on my scope and see the color coded purple and pink figures climbing up onto the platform. I watch them for a time before they suddenly split off in different directions. I note that North is making his way up one of the smoke stacks and is probably providing the same services to South as I am to both of them.

I swivel my rifle to watch South as she takes out a few guards on her way to the objective.

My com crackles to life again when South speaks, "Hey, we clear?"

I check around South for any kind of movement when North answers, "Yes South. You're clear but..."

I stop listening when I see a guard around the corner of where South is. If he were to spot her and she was still there she wouldn't be able to react until it's too late. I glance at the wind speed on my HUD and compensate as I place my crosshairs where they're needed. I'm holding my breath, ready to take the shot when I remember the Director's strict criteria for this mission. I hesitate a second before I exhale in frustration and move my aim away.

I pointedly ignore the relief that floods through me when South starts moving again. It takes me a moment to realize that the two Freelancers are still talking to each other, completely oblivious to how close South had come to getting caught.

"...Set your motion trackers." I hear North's uneasy voice.

"Nah. Takes too long." She replies and I almost want to speak up and order her to do it myself. Sneaking around there blind is a terrible idea. And it turns out I'm not the only one who thinks so.

"So does getting caught! Set your trackers!" I note that out of the two, North seems to be the one with any sense.

I continue to watch South as she runs into the building containing the objective when North speaks up again, "South, I do not have visual in there! I can't be your eyes if I can't see. "

She replies with a cocky, "Just trust me North, I got this." before I turn off my radio. The constant chatter was not something I was used to and it was honestly starting to annoy me a bit. Besides, I can see them just fine without listening to them bicker.

I watch South as she finds the module and begins the transfer when something catches my eye. I zoom in the little more that I can to make sure that the two thermal dots I see in the building aren't just my imagination. They aren't. I examine them for a moment before the realization hits me and I swiftly turn on my radio to warn South. After all, this was very important to the mission's success. But, again, it turns out I'm not the only one who notices.

"...I think something's in there!" North's concerned voice bellows in my ear.

And then silence.

I hadn't noticed how quiet it is on the ice cap until just now. My body gradually tenses up as I wait for something to happen. Anything to happen.

And then, of course, something happens.

South's comment, "About to get loud," coupled with sirens echoing from the oil rig alerted me that the something was bad.

"On my way." North says as he swiftly jumps off of the smoke silo he had found residence on.

I frantically sweep the rig and notice that all of the guards are abandoning their posts in favor of finding the intruders. I tear my eyes away momentarily to reposition my body and fleetingly run my hand over the jetpack strapped to my back. If Carolina fails to get them out of there, the job falls to me.

North and South make their way toward the helipad like clockwork. They easily move and react to one another as I watch with some fascination. They cut through troops like butter with their practiced motions and are soon tearing down the bridge connected to the helipad. But unfortunately, they weren't the only ones.

Every guard on the platform was rushing to get on the ledges surrounding the pad. By the time North and South got there, too many guns were pointed in their direction for them to do much of anything. Oh, and one of the soldiers had a minigun. Great.

"Agent Texas, get ready." I hear the Councelor speak through my radio. Without answering, I lift my rifle out of its locked position as I get up on one knee. Up until this point, I had been ignoring the twin's dialogue through their fight, but seeing as I am momentarily blind, I listen in.

"…How 'bout you save your jokes until we get out of this?" North says seriously.

South ignores him completely and yells, "Where the hell is extraction?"

I comfortably position my rifle again and look through it to see the two Freelancers, back to back, right in the middle of the helipad. I look away from them in search of another target and quickly spot Carolina's thermally color coded figure sidling on the side of one of the pillars. She waits a beat before springing into action.

She knocks out most of the guards on the ledge she landed on before getting behind the minigun and shooting at the foundations of the other platforms. Guards go tumbling down as North recovers and looks up at their savior.

"Son of a bitch." North mumbles when he sees who it is.

"What's going on?" South straightens up and hastily looks around, seemingly undisturbed by the troops pooling around them both.

"It's her." North jerks his head toward Carolina.

"What? What's she doing here?" South's voice spits with venom and I almost chuckle. I can only imagine the look on her face if she knew I was here to babysit them too.

They both seem to remember where they are when Carolina jumps down from the ledge. They both ready their guns and face their assailants when Carolina speaks up, "Okay, my turn."

She tears through guards so fast that I have trouble keeping up with my scope. If I thought North and South's tag team was good, it was nothing compared to Carolina. She uses speed rather than power to take out her opponents. Her acrobatics are fluid and accurate as she knocks out or kills guard after guard and I smirk with satisfaction.

She may be better than the twins, but she's got nothing on me.

Once I'm sure that they have a handle on the situation, I look at their surrounding area and something catches my eye. There's movement up on the ledge where Carolina had first made her entrance. I see a man struggling to crawl toward something so I follow his line of sight and when I see his destination, fear clutches me.

I quickly patch my radio to command, "Sir, I need permission to engage."

The Director's response is quick, "Is the mission about to fail?"

I study the insurrectionist as he inches closer to his objective, "No, bu-"

"If the mission is not failing, do not engage or establish communications of any kind." He snaps before promptly signing off.

My quick and cold conversation with the Director leaves me feeling helpless. All I can do is watch as the man grips the minigun and hauls himself into a standing position. I can't tell where exactly he's pointing it, but my stomach drops when I see the barrel start to spin.

"South look out!" I hear North say before he shoves his sister out of the line of fire. She stumbles to the side and North lets out a cry of pain as he takes the bullets straight in the chest.

I watch his body fly back into the air. Guilt quickly pools in my stomach and I feel sick when I watch his body slam on to the pavement. A few moments pass and dread quickly joins my flurry of emotions. He's not moving.

"Fucking move damnit!" I yell to no one as I continue to glare, willing him to be alive.

I'm holding completely still, studying his form, when his arm moves. The sick feeling is expelled leaving room for relief to engulf me. I take a deep breath to calm myself. He's alive. I didn't kill him.

I am unable to shake the dazed felling I have as I watch South pull him up into a standing position. I remotely register that someone must've taken out the gunner as I watch North and South back up to the far side of the pad.

South's voice sounds muffled in my ear when I realize she's talking, "...we have wounded! You need to get us out of here right now!"

Suddenly Carolina's there behind them, grabbing them both by the shoulder, "C'mon you two, we're leaving."

She promptly pulls them over the edge into what should be the water, but I know better. A few of the guards walk cautiously to the edge but step back when a pelican rises from out of nowhere, the three Freelancers safely perched atop it.

"Package is secure, everybody inside." I hear Carolina's chipper voice say before I swiftly turn off my radio again.

I don't even turn off my thermal before I lower my rifle and let it simply dangle in my right hand. I feel drained. I didn't do one damn thing on this mission and I feel drained. What's up with that?

Well actually, I glance down at the remote detonator in my holster, I did do one thing. I look up to make sure the pelican is at a safe distance before casually taking the remote out.

"Never. Again." I say to myself before pressing the button.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Did anybody catch the double meaning of the last sentence in Chapter 1?_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	5. Chapter 3

_So let me first say that I had to restart this chapter a few times and now I have a little section that I cut out of this chapter. I haven't decided if I'm going to sneak in later or just have it be kind of a deleted scene. I don't know. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

"With all due respect sir, I'm going to have to say no." I say while standing at attention in front of the Director.

His face quickly contorts into an expression of disbelief, "Come again Agent Texas?"

I clear my throat and respond with more confidence than I actually feel, "I'm saying no sir."

I glance down at him through my helmet and see that he still perplexed about my disinterest in doing a job similar to the one I just performed. I had shown apathy toward being with a team at all before the mission, only going with it quietly because they wouldn't know I was there. But after my experience on the oil platform, I'd take an actual team mission over that situation any day.

I snap my gaze back to the wall of the small and barren landing bay before continuing, "If you're going to send me in with a team again, I'm going to have to request that they know I'm there."

He narrows his eyes and I can practically feel them roving over my form, studying me. A few moments pass and I begin to fear that I have said something terribly wrong when he speaks up with an inquisitive voice, "When's the last time you had any trouble with Omega?"

The question catches me off guard and I feel Omega stir at the sound of his name. I try and think back and honestly can't remember a time where he was any trouble since we gave him his second chance. In fact, we have progressively been building a tolerable relationship with each other when we aren't on duty.

"Not since he came back to me sir." I answer honestly.

"Interesting." He whispers before looking up at me with a blank expression, "Very well. I expect to see you in training room two at your regular time tomorrow."

He then turns around and stalks toward the door leading out of the hangar without another word of explanation. I'm left staring obtusely after him with a million questions running through my head. The most prominent regarding the fact that I have never stepped foot in training ground two.

Training ground two was where all the other Freelancers practiced.

… … … … …

My steps echoed as I walked down the deserted metal halls of The Mother of Invention. The ship still made its regular machine noises, but it was lacking human presence. That's to be expected though. People other than myself don't tend to be very awake at 0430 Earth Pacific Time.

I was used to the dark halls by now though. The only time I was allowed to leave my room without permission and walk the short distance to my training room was either very late or very early in the day. The only change today is my destination.

During my first week of extensive training on the colossal ship, I had grudgingly wondered if the other soldiers had to get up as early as I do to train. Now, as I walk through the area where the other Freelancers reside, I start to wonder this again. I see their name plaques placed on their respective doors but I pay them no mind. Instead, I focus on listening very carefully for any signs of activity as I quickly pass their rooms and can't help but feel a little bit relived when I'm greeted with silence.

I don't let up on my speed until I turn the corner that brings me to training ground two's gallery entrance. I stop in front of the door and hesitantly look around for any movement before I realize how ridiculous I'm being. Anyone watching me right now would think I was breaking in or something. I shake my head at my own foolishness before casually opening the door and striding in.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it felt as though, somehow, the whole area fit into those nonexistent expectations. The gallery was a long room obviously overlooking the actual training ground. I look over to my immediate left and see the manual controls for manipulating the training session. I run my hand over the computer and let it spring to life under my fingertips before I walk up to the giant glass window and look down. The grounds were much larger than mine, which didn't surprise me. More than just one Freelancer used it after all.

It's at this point that I begin to wonder why the Director sent me here in the first place. If there was no one else here to train with, what was the point? Perhaps I had simply misread his intentions. Maybe he just wanted me to have a change in scenery?

I shrug the question off and make my way to the elevator that will take me to the ground floor. I press the call button and the door immediately opens so I step in. Then, as I hit the button that indicates my destination, Omega suddenly appears on my shoulder. I offer him a fleeting look in acknowledgement before stepping back as the elevator begins to move.

We sit there in silence for a moment before he asks, "Do I get to be included in today's session?"

I turn to face the steel colored AI and flex my right hand unconsciously when I meet his gaze. I hadn't used him in a training simulation since he jumped back in me four months ago. At first, I had only been using him during missions because I needed him. Recently, however, I have been using him more often when he isn't needed, including in my most recent mission. I could have planted the bombs myself, but Omega made the mission quicker and easier. I have gradually been giving him back his privileges just like I have gradually been forgiving him for my injury.

_Ding!_

The elevator door opens but I don't break his gaze as I answer deliberately, "Yes."

He keeps his composure, but I can feel his very rare and very acute happiness ripple through my head, "Thank you."

I stride out of the elevator and into the training field before I add, "But the same rules apply here as they would on a mission." I turn to him again, "Which means you keep your mouth shut until we're done."

"Very well." He says before dissolving his visible form.

I look up at the giant scoreboard they have which, at the moment, only displays the time and note that I'm right on schedule. I take a deep breath before cracking my left knuckles while at the same time popping my neck, as is my ritual.

"FILSS, run simulation Oscar November." I say as I crouch in a ready position.

"Welcome Agent Texas, running simulation Oscar November." FILSS' ever present voice answers.

When she begins the simulation, a number of targets appear around me in about a 15 foot radius. The objective was simple, hit all the targets in the area as fast as I can. A good warm up.

I feel my body tense up slightly in anticipation before I force myself to relax and spring into action. I picture my muscles contacting and expanding as I punch and kick each target. I put mine and Omega's combined power and speed behind each hit, and each time I feel slightly disappointed when I feel no impact. There's no gratifying crack of metal on metal with each blow. I feel only the whoosh of air as I move through the simulation and by the time I finish, I feel nothing but dissatisfied.

The targets vanish and I look up at the speakers above, "Hey FILSS? Do you have anything more... substantial that I can train with?"

Her response is immediate, "There is only a limited number of simulations I can run with only one—"

"Alright. Never mind." I cut her off wearily, having heard it a million times before. I was hoping there might be more I could do in this room seeing as it's built with more programs, but apparently there's only so much that can be done when there was only one person training.

_Ding!_

I stiffen at the sound and slowly turn toward the elevator. It doesn't move for a moment, but then slides open to reveal three other Freelancers standing inside. They all step out but the two clad in white armor stop as soon as they see me while the last one prattles on with their conversation, unaware of my presence.

"And so he says to me, "Rectum? Damn near killed 'em!" and th—" The last one freezes in midsentence when he finally sees me standing in the middle of the room.

My mind goes blank as I stare at the soldiers in front of me. I knew that there was a very good possibility of seeing other Freelancers today, but apparently I wasn't as prepared as I thought. I rack my brain for something to say but I'm spared the effort when the one closest to me, the one in tan armor, speaks up.

"So, you must be the new recruit." He says nonchalantly while leaning back on his heels.

His assumption was as good as a slap in the face to get my mind back in working order. Behind my helmet, my eyebrows shoot to the sky in stupefaction. I look at the other two white soldiers and see that they are periodically switching their gazes from the tan one (New York, if I remember correctly) and myself. I flicker my focus on New York again and see that he has now crossed his arms, trying to assume some kind of authority.

It doesn't work of course. The knowledge that I could put him on his ass at any moment killed any attempt at him trying to be the real authoritative figure in this situation. I weigh my options for a second before I decide to play along. It'll be much more entertaining this way.

"You're expecting me?" I ask innocently as I approach them.

New York's exterior softens slightly and he uncrosses his arms, "Yeah, but not until later."

As I stop in front of New York, I notice that the other two have now completely overlooked my existence. They pointedly walk by us, going further into the training grounds when I finally remember their names: Wyoming and Maine.

I watch them over my shoulder before I turn back to New York, "I just wanted to get in a little practice this morning." I hesitate a moment before I stick out my right hand, "I'm Agent Texas."

He takes it and we shake as he says, "I'm Agent New York, but everyone just calls me York."

I nod and let my hidden bionic arm drop to my side, unsure what to do or say next. It's been entirely too long since I've had a real conversation with someone outside of the Director, Counselor, or Omega. I look over my shoulder at the others for something to do and watch as they stage a warm up fight. They gradually start hitting each other harder and harder and it's when Maine lands a particularly good hit on Wyoming that a thought pops into my head.

"Do you know what an AI is?" I say before I can stop myself. A very strange subject to discuss with someone I just met, but hey, it's better than nothing right?

Keeping my gaze on the fight, I see York cock his head to the side out of the corner of my eye, "Yeah. Why?"

I zero in on Maine, observing him as he uses his seemingly overwhelming strength to overpower Wyoming, "I was just wondering… Do any of you have one?"

York steps up next to me, now watching the fight as well, "Not that I'm aware of."

I hum in acknowledgement before tearing my eyes away from the fighting Freelancers, my theory now extinguished. I knew that it was extremely unlikely that anyone had gotten an AI fragment besides me, but I hadn't known for sure. It's not like I ever had the chance to find out.

"Come on," York suddenly says and looks over at me, "I'll warm up with you, see what you're made of."

I have to stop myself from bursting out laughing at his invitation. I look at him, then to the fighting Freelancers, and then back to him before I make a decision, "Alright, but I've warmed up already. You go on, I'll jump in later."

York nods in agreement and jogs away to do a simulation of some sort. I feel some kind of amusement when he runs the same simulation that I was previously. I watch him for a moment before looking up at the gallery and seeing South looking down at the others, observing as they train. A small smirk appears on the corner of my mouth. This is going to be fun.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Do you have to keep reminding yourself that this isn't Tex too? (Cause I do...)_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	6. Chapter 4

_Hey! This is a chapter where stuff happens and I realize that I like sound effects too much! Anyways this is, like, the length of two chapters so I hope you enjoy! (Now proofread. I hope.)_

_P.S. I'm going to hope that you all have seen season nine by now and, if you haven't, stop reading this NOW and go watch it._

* * *

I step off the elevator and on to the training ground to see Wyoming, Maine, and York standing by a rack of pugil sticks. They seem to be conversing amongst themselves when York spots me and jogs over. He stops in front of me and looks like he is about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, he settles for awkwardly shifting his weight to his other foot and staring directly at me.

I hold his gaze for a moment before I swiftly step by him, "I know what I'm doing if that's what you're wondering."

I hear his footsteps behind me before I see his profile in my peripheral vision, "And that's where we disagree Rookie. Are you sure about this?"

I roll my eyes at his concern. After I had been watching them train for awhile, I went back to the gallery and set up a nine round, three on one training session. South, who initially didn't seem to care about my existence, had looked over at me when I finished and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Your funeral."

I give York a sidelong glance as we arrive at the rack containing our weapons and deadpan, "Of course I'm sure."

I snatch a pugil stick off of the shelf and coolly turn on my heel as I head toward my side of the field. While I walk, I feel the weight of the familiar staff in my hands and decide to test its balance. I casually flip it behind my back to my right hand and swipe it horizontally in front of me before I feel satisfied. It isn't perfect, but it'll work.

Once at my starting point I turn to face my opponents and notice that they are still making their way to their side. I look up at the giant clock and read that it's now 0613 before the screen suddenly switches to serve its true purpose: keeping score.

A sudden stir in the back of my mind as I readied myself reminded me that I'm not alone. I debate my options for a moment before I come to a decision.

"Omega, I'm going to need you to log off for this okay?" I solicitously ask the AI in my head.

Before he can answer, FILSS' voice breaks through the speakers, "Beginning pugil sticks training."

Omega's voice reverberates in my head, "Not yet…"

"Round one in 5…" FILSS' continues.

I feel my anger flare at the AI before I swiftly douse it and patiently say, "Now is not the time Omega."

"…4"

I can practically feel his second set of eyes staring down my opponents, ready to obliterate them.

"…3"

The three Freelancers are now slowly walking toward me, any previous sympathy they held for me now long gone.

"…2"

They're speeding up now, their slow walk becoming a loping jog while I wait for Omega to shut down.

"…1"

"_Omega!_" I hiss to get his attention, but he is completely focused on the others who are now running full tilt toward me.

"…Round begin."

Damnit.

Faster than humanly possible, I grip the stick with both hands and bring it behind my head. I feel Omega revert the power in my suit to where it will be needed most as my opponents come in range.

_Crack!_

I strike them all simultaneously with my pugil stick, sending them flying back a good twenty feet. As I watch their bodies land on the hard floor, I can't help but feel the satisfaction that had been missing earlier during my warm up.

The three Freelancers are slow to get up so I take advantage the momentary lapse, "Omega, log off. _Now_."

Unable to disobey the direct order, Omega logs off. I had recently taken to requesting his deactivation rather than ordering him to do it and, until now, it had been working quite well. One step forward, two steps back I guess.

I snap my focus back on the fight when I see Maine regain his footing and charge toward me like a raging bull. I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline course through me as I reposition my stance.

When he's nearly on top of me, I feint left before quickly lunging to my right and making contact with his side. He recoils slightly but doesn't miss beat in swinging his stick overhead and nearly whacking me across the face. I take a step back for a single breath and take notice that York has now joined the fight before diving in again.

York and Maine both go for a high hit so I duck before striking them both in stomach with one swipe. They don't go as far as the first time I hit them, but there was no time to observe them as Wyoming steps up.

Wyoming had apparently learned that running in full speed didn't give the greatest of outcomes and pointedly stopped charging about eight feet away from me. I pause a moment before deciding to teach him that _not_ running in full speed didn't provide the greatest outcomes either.

I spring out of my ready position and run the few steps needed to close the distance, moving my stick like I'm about to hit him overhead. He falls for the bait and moves his own weapon to block my attack. I continue my motion until, at the very last second, I let go of my own weapon with my left hand and slide under his arm. Now back to back, I promptly spin my pugil stick around the back of my head but around the front of his and catch it with my left hand. I lean forward slightly, pulling him off the ground and effectively putting him in a headlock without actually choking him.

With his head immobilized on my shoulder, I hear Wyoming's grunts of frustration as I amble toward Maine and York's still prone forms. York is the first to get up and seems a bit taken aback at Wyoming's current situation. I cock my head to the side, amused at his loss of what to do.

I take no more time to absorb the moment however when I notice that Maine is now upright. I let go of the stick with my left hand and swiftly knock York and Maine down before they even knew what happened. I turn to face a ready Wyoming and duck under his strike before hitting him with a flurry of attacks until he's down for the round.

With blood now pounding in my ears, I sense York's presence beside me and move my weapon to block his attack. I grunt with effort as I push his pugil stick away and take him out with two hard strikes to the knee and head, respectively.

I turn to face Maine just in time to dodge a swipe he took at my legs. He blocks a few of my advances and I block a few of his before I get in a few good knocks to his head and finally do the pugil stick equivalent of an uppercut. His body goes flying and it takes me a second to realize that the impact of the blow had broken my staff in two.

I let out one short, amused laugh as I watch Maine struggling to get up before I throw my now useless weapon next to him. The round was over anyways.

"Round one over." FILSS echoes my thoughts, "Pugil sticks training complete. Point awarded to Texas."

I look up at the gallery as I walk away and notice that there are a few more Freelancers watching now. Besides South, the only one that I can see that I immediately recognize is North, which surprises me. I hadn't expected to see him up and about so soon. Not only that, but it feels strange to have him watching me while having no idea that we've met before. Or even that I watched him get shot two days ago. I'm just another new recruit to him. A very skilled new recruit, but a new recruit none the less

I tear my eyes away from the windows and watch as my opponents grab the pugil sticks and toss them in the corner. Maine appeared to be stretching his neck after he threw both of our staves away.

"Beginning hand to hand combat." FILSS announces and I walk over to them, my hands up in a ready position.

As FILSS starts the countdown, I rove my eyes over the three Freelancers, watching their stances and studying their postures. It's obvious that Wyoming and Maine are bitter about my effortless win. Curious about how this will affect their fighting styles, I decide to wait patiently for them to make the first move as FILSS starts the round.

As I wait, I hear York start to say something, but my focus quickly shifts to Maine when he decides to be the first to charge at me yet again. Once he is close enough, I quickly sidestep out of his way and hit him with a haymaker, sending him right back where he started. As his body hits the ground, I deliberately shift my gaze to Wyoming and give him the tiniest of beckoning motions to see how he reacts.

A smirk appears on my face when he doesn't disappoint. Wyoming completely ignores York's attempt to strategize and sprints toward me. His blind rage makes him easy to read so I smoothly block his attempt at attacking and punch him square in the face. His body lands right back next to York, who exasperatingly looks down at Wyoming and begins the say something.

York's focus now away from me, I take the opportunity to run up in his blind spot. I'm about to strike when I hear what he is actually saying, "…Am I the only one on this team that knows how to talk?"

Instead of hitting him like I planned, I take one more step closer to him, "I don't think talking's your problem."

Surprised by my voice, he looks back over at me like he had completely forgotten I was here. He does a quick once over of me before he abruptly realizes the danger he's in.

"Oh no—!" Is all I let him get out before I land a hard jab in his lower abdomen.

York now momentarily out of the picture, I quickly take out Wyoming who had been in the process of standing up from my last blow. Once he's down, I turn to a set and livid Maine who, I've learned by now, is one big son of a bitch. Using his sheer weight and body size to stay up, it takes several hits for me to finally get him on the ground.

The fight goes on this way for most of the round. Each time they get up, I put them back down until FILSS finally calls it and awards me a point.

After I walk back to my side of the room, FILSS announces to us all, "Now resetting the floor for lockdown paint scenario."

Aware of what this implies, I'm not surprised when a table rises up out of the ground next to me with a standard issue pistol and paint rounds resting on top of it. I calmly grab the gun and ammo off of it and watch as several black pillars appear symmetrically around the floor in the same fashion as the table. Once everything is set and I load my pistol, I'm left in keen anticipation to get going while I wait for FILSS to start the round.

It is actually in this short break between rounds that I suddenly realize that I'm genuinely enjoying myself. It almost feels like I'm a child again, learning new fighting moves and styles for the first time. In this training room, with the real people I'm fighting, it's only game – it's not life or death.

When FILSS finally calls for the round to begin, I'm already kneeling to the side of one of the pillars while pointing my pistol toward my opponents. I freeze and study everything in my vision, waiting for the first visible motion made by any of them.

I'm honestly not surprised when the first of them I see is Maine wheeling around one of the pillars. I take him out in three short bursts of my paint rounds and promptly run up to his hardened body and knock him back toward where I assume his teammates are.

Not wanting to stay in one spot for too long however, I take a hard right and run down the narrow path parallel to their position before another white figure catches my eye. Wyoming had just rounded the corner of the pillar he was hiding behind so I dive for cover while simultaneously shooting in his general direction. I knew a few of the rounds hit home before I even finished the move as I heard the unmistakable _thud_ the paint makes when making contact with our armor.

Taking out York after that was simple and humorous. I rapidly sped from pillar to pillar, confusing him until he was left standing exposed in the middle of the field. I watched as he moved his pistol from side to side, trying to find me but having no luck. I observed him for a little while before I decided he'd had enough and took him out with a single shot to the back.

As soon as his armor locked up, FILSS called the round and deactivated the live agents in the paint, letting the other Freelancers move again. I was walking by York, returning to my starting area when I noticed that he was struggling to pry the paint off of his back.

"Just a little advice," I say as I approach him and grab the hardened pink substance, "don't stand in the middle of the room spinning around like an idiot."

I hear his scoff as I roughly rip off the paint and chuck it in the corner somewhere. He turns to me and retorts lightheartedly, "Well no shit. Why didn't I think of that?"

I put my hands up in mock defense, "Hey, I'm not the one getting their ass kicked."

He holsters his gun and begins to turn away from me as he jokes, "Oh don't worry, I'm very aware of that."

He then turns completely around and walks back to his waiting team. I quickly decide to follow his example and go back to my side of the ground. Once there, I grab one of the full cartridges off of the table and replace the ammo in my gun as FILSS calls for the next round to begin.

This round goes much like the last, as does the one after that, and after that. In fact, each round it had become my goal to mess with them as much as I could. At one point, I'd even taken to climbing on top of one of the pillars and waiting for one of them to actually see me before taking them all out. I also noticed that each round Wyoming and Maine seemed to get more and more pissed off while York just seemed to accept his painful fate.

By the last round I honestly have to say that I was getting a little tired though. As entertaining as this was, that didn't stop the weariness from exertion that berated my body. My muscles are throbbing and I can only begin to think about how the other team is feeling.

As FILSS starts the countdown, I dash over to the pillar on my far left. Once behind it, I take a deep breath to clear the light fog that had begun to descend on my tired mind. I close my eyes and listen to her voice.

"… 3… 2… 1… Round nine, begin."

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

My eyes fly open in disbelief at the familiar sound of live pistol ammo and tear away from the now crumbling pillar that I was hiding behind. My fatigue forgotten, my mind goes into hyper drive trying to figure out how I was going to deal with their bullets darting around me as I ran. I go with the first solution that comes to mind.

"Omega!" I yell over the gunfire, "Online, now!"

I immediately feel his presence in my mind as he takes less than a second to evaluate the situation and develop a course of action. However, it's in this second that I also feel his red mist of fury flow through me, hindering my mental thought process.

"Keep moving." He orders me when I inadvertently falter at his invasion into my mind. I listen without question.

I fly from one shelter to the next, quickly realizing that they were running haphazardly in my direction while they showered bullets at me. My jaw is set as I run, outrage radiating off of my body. I know I can beat them in this situation, but the fact that they had the audacity to even do this was egregious. With my hand ready on the trigger, I decide to make sure they never make this mistake again.

"I'll guide you." I hear Omega say as I dive and take shelter behind another pillar.

I unnecessarily nod and I'm just about to round the corner and finally teach these fuckers a lesson when York pops up out of nowhere right next to me. Without thinking, I immediately raise my gun and nearly pull the trigger, but hesitate in surprise when I notice his stance.

His hands are up to show he means no harm as he speaks, "Hey, I'm trying to help!"

"I don't need your help!" I spit back, unable to control my emotions, "Never abandon your team!"

But before we can say anything else, Wyoming jumps up on the pillar I was hiding against and unloads a few rounds toward us. I automatically knee York out of the picture and grab Wyoming before throwing him face first on to the ground. Promptly after, Maine nearly punches me across the face from behind but I manage to block it and kick him back a few feet. While he's staggering, I run up to him, only to have to duck under his wild haymaker. I take advantage of this by pushing his whiffed arm up against the a pillar and shooting his hand, effectively trapping him in that one spot.

Not forgetting about Wyoming, I turn on my heel only to see him pointing his gun point blank at me. I instinctively lean and try to move out of the way, but one of his shots hits home. I feel no pain when the bullet hits the upper part of my bionic arm, but I do feel the very sudden and very new outpouring of my own rage.

If what I thought before was blinding red mist, it was nothing compared to what I feel now. I tore toward Wyoming, any logical thought of merely hurting him now gone. Once in range, I let my right arm flail around unceremoniously and use my left hand and legs to beat him as much as I possibly can. I hit him again and again until I finally decide to punch him to the ground.

I'm about to keep wailing on him when someone grabs my shoulder. No longer caring who it might be, I turn on York and begin beating on him too. I see through the haze enough not to hurt him too bad and when I feel something click back into place in my injured arm, I steal the paint gun out of his hand and flip him on the ground.

I turn my focus back to Wyoming, who was trying to get up again, and let loose a flurry paint rounds from both of my pistols. I don't miss a single shot and he's left frozen in front of one of the pillars, but I'm not done with him yet. Before the paint hardens his armor completely, I run up to him, grab him by the neck and, with all the might I can possibly muster, slam him into the pillar. When he hits the structure, his armor hardens so that he is leaning back into the giant dent his body created.

As I look at Wyoming's awkward position, I feel the overwhelming rage dissipate, leaving only a bitter aftertaste. I glance over at Maine and once satisfied that he is still incapacitated, I turn and walk over toward York's struggling form. I pull his gun out of my holster and start to offer it to him when I hear a noise from behind.

I whip back around to see Maine now suddenly free of his bind and ready to fight. He charges and I duck out of the way when he slams into the pillar I had knocked Wyoming against. The pillar goes flying with tremendous speed and I don't hesitate to rapidly shoot my paint rounds at Maine. However, when doing this, I feel some kind of gear pop out of place in my bionic shoulder yet again, leaving it useless.

I don't focus on that as I kick Maine into the nearest pillar and watch as his armor begins to harden from the shots I landed. But before he finally goes down completely, something in his right hand catches my eye. I quickly notice that it is a frag grenade before he throws it in my direction. The throw wasn't very hard and I easily lean out of the way and watch as it soars by.

My heart nearly stops when I see where it lands though.

Still struggling to get up from when the pillar had apparetly collided with him, York had no idea that there was a live grenade mere feet from him.

"York!" I call out to get his attention.

He looks up confused before he spots the grenade. He tries to crawl away but I can tell that he won't be fast enough.

Thinking quickly, I try to lift my right hand to shoot him with the hardening paint capsules. I'm stopped, however, when my arm doesn't move and I'm greeted with a few sparks to the face that it gives off instead. I had momentarily forgotten that it was damaged.

Fearing that I have wasted too much time, I promptly raise my left arm and get a few shots off before I'm blasted back into the air.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Were the fight sequences okay?_

_(I should elaborate) This is the first time that I have ever written any kind of fight sequence so any feedback would be great. I tried to focus more on what I thought happened off screen._

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	7. Chapter 5

_So, when I was first writing this story, I planned on having my Tex's armor be black. So when I went to write Chapter 1, I wrote in her armor as being black. But, I changed my mind before I posted it and completely forgot to change the word "black" to "white" in one of the sentences. Which is, you know, kind of important... I'm going to go fix that now... *walk of shame*_

_So now that the source of the confusion has been sought out and destroyed, I hope everyone knows what color her armor is. But, you know, just in case:_

_TEX'S ARMOR IS WHITE._

_I'm sorry about that :/ _

* * *

The blast deafens me as its shockwave sends me flying back. I'm airborne for only a second before I feel the right side of my body slam on to the ground. I roll with the blow, trying to do the least amount of damage possible to my live tissue. The world a blur around me, I'm not sure how far I roll before I finally feel my body come to a slow stop. Aching all over, I lay there unmoving and catalog all of my injuries.

If I thought that there was a chance my bionic arm might move at all earlier, the idea is dashed now. I had landed on it somewhat purposefully in order to save the human parts of my body. Moving my focus toward my actual person, I note that there isn't any stinging or sharp pain so I know that no stray shrapnel managed to hit me. In fact, besides my robotic arm, the only injuries I seem to have obtained are some possible bruising on my right shoulder blade and hip. As if on cue, Omega flashes the injury report across my HUD reaffirming my diagnosis that I'm in acceptable physical condition.

Now sure that I'm relatively unharmed, I begin to try and get up while my ears continue ringing from the blast. My left arm shakes as I tentatively use it to haul my upper body off of the ground. My right arm hangs limply at my side as I slowly bring my knees up to support me. Once stable, I start to lift my head and sit up straight only to have to go back down again when the world's axis tilts.

Luckily, I catch myself before I do a face plant. I close my eyes and regain my balance as my head gradually stops spinning. As soon as I'm able to distinguish up from down, I open my eyes and try to sit up again, slowly this time.

The technique seems to be working seeing as I'm able to actually lift my head this time. Still slightly dazed, I sweep the area in front of me for any sign of York but don't spot him. I tilt my head to the left in search of him, but still don't see him. Now feeling irritated at the necessary slowness of my inspection, I shift my gaze to the right before I finally locate him.

He's laying sprawled out and face down, his head turned away from me. As my vision becomes clearer, I notice that his armor is singed and burnt to the point of being a dark rust color rather than its normal tan. I blink and narrow my eyes as I wait for him to move.

When he doesn't stir, I begin to call out, "Yo—!"

"_York!_" I'm cut off by the familiar voice of Carolina.

I look up at the giant ground floor entrance to see Carolina and a few other Freelancers running toward York. I follow their movement until they surround him, effectively cutting him out of my line of sight. I start to rise completely, ready to go check on him myself when I'm suddenly halted by a hand on my shoulder. I look up, surprised, to see several medics circled around me. I hadn't even noticed they were there.

"Stay down." Says the male medic who had his hand on me.

I grimace at his command before starting to get up anyways. I freeze, however, when several of them reach out to stop me. I sigh in frustration at their useless antics.

"I'm fine. Go help him!" I point toward where I know York is and force my way up through their resistant hands.

"Agent Texas—" I cut off one of the three medics when I shoulder by him and stumble in York's direction.

I pause again when I see all of the other Freelancers now lined up at attention, the Director apparently giving them some kind of lecture. Strange. I didn't even see him come in.

I look down the row and see Carolina, South, North, and one other Freelancer listening to him. I switch my gaze to the pacing form of the Director as he dismisses them and walks out of the room without so much as glancing in my direction.

I forget the scene when I hear some noise coming from York's general direction. I slowly shift my focus to his prone form but my line of sight is cut off yet again, but this time it's by his medics.

"Please miss, let us examine you." The same medic who had stopped me earlier suddenly steps in front of me.

I note that this guy was really starting to get annoying, "My HUD says I'm fine. Now, get out of the way."

He deliberately shifts his gaze to my limp and trashed metal apparatus, "That tells me a different story."

"It's not…" I glance down at my unfeeling arm and then back at him before taking a step forward, "Look."

I use my left arm to lift my right arm slightly and show him the bullet hole in my skintight under layer. He immediately leans in closer and rips the cloth even more to get a better look before promptly dropping his hands.

"Oh." He says a bit sheepishly.

I drop my arm, "'Oh' is right. Now move."

I'm bewildered when he still doesn't listen though, "I'm afraid I can't do that. Regulation says that we need to examine you."

Not wanting to force my way through this man again, I glance over his shoulder and try to see York once again. My attempt proves to be in vain when I'm unable to see past both the medics and Freelancers now surrounding him. Nervousness begins to creep into my stomach as I watch Carolina kneel down by his head.

Coming to a decision, I jerk my head toward York, "Just tell me if he's going to be okay and I'll let you examine me."

The medic looks over his shoulder before turning back to me and nodding, "Alright. Just stay here."

He doesn't wait for me to answer as he turns on his heel and jogs toward the huddled group. I watch but can't quite hear as he leans over one of the other medics and says something. I'm caught off guard when Carolina is the one to lift her head and answer him before quickly switching her focus and locking in on me. I stare back at her, confused by the gesture but strangely unable to break her gaze. I find myself only capable of tearing my eyes away when my medic comes running back.

"He'll be okay." He states immediately and I feel relief flood through me.

Now armed with this knowledge, my body swiftly relaxes. Tension I didn't even know was there suddenly disintegrated, leaving me in an exhausted state. My legs feel like lead as I turn my body toward the giant door and stagger in that direction, the medic like a ghost behind me, ready to catch me if I fall.

… … … … … …

I cringe at the echoing sound the infirmary door makes as it closes behind me. I freeze, listening for any indication that someone heard it in the stillness of the late night. When I'm greeted with sweet silence, I quickly look down the row of beds until I spot the only occupied one.

Knowing it has to be York, I take a few steps in his direction, but hesitate when I see someone sitting down on a chair on the far side of his bed. Unsure of whether they are awake or not, I take a few tentative steps forward.

"Who's there?" I hear Carolina's voice call out from the occupied chair.

I stop completely this time as I watch her get up from her seat and look at me. I lift my repaired bionic arm in an unsure gesture as I look at the only part of her body that isn't covered in armor: her head. It's hard to see from this distance, especially in the dark, but I can tell that she has her red hair tied back in a ponytail and a strong jaw line framing her face.

"Oh, it's you." She suddenly says as she recognizes my full white body armor.

Unable to indulge in my habit of running my hand through my hair, I settle for placing my hand behind my head, "I just want to see his injury report."

She doesn't break my gaze as she walks around York's bed and stops a few feet in front of me. Now that she's up close, I'm able to see that she has green eyes, or, at least that one of her eyes is green. The other is completely covered by the bangs hanging over her face.

"Agent New York, incident report 0322." She begins reciting off memory, "Hit by live frag grenade during lockdown paint scenario. Most injuries were prevented as a result of Agent Texas shooting him with substance 794, effectively hardening his armor before he was hit. Agent New York still suffered a mild concussion along with severe damage to his left eye. Extended stay in the emergency ward required. Agent Texas was also hit by the grenade but suffered no notable injuries."

Carolina drawled out the last couple of words but I was not focused on that, "How bad is the damage to his eye?"

I see anger flash across her face, but at who, I'm not sure, "Bad enough that he might lose his vision."

I look past her at York and I'm able to see the white bandage wrapped around his head. With only his casuals on, I can also see a few other bandages over some other parts of his exposed body. I know that they are superficial, but seeing him like this makes my mind suddenly flash to a scenario where I didn't shoot him in time. I shiver at the terrible thought and look back at Carolina to see that she is waiting for some kind of response.

Unable to think of anything worthwhile to say, I give her a solemn nod before turning on my heel and walking back to the infirmary door. As I approach, the door slides open, but I linger for a moment.

I look over my shoulder and see that Carolina has not moved from the spot I had left her in. I try to get a read on her face, but her expression is blank. I turn away, feeling somehow defeated as I walk out of the infirmary.

However, just before the door closes, I turn my head to the side and say just loud enough for her to hear,

"I'm sorry."

* * *

_Good? Bad? Did you read my author's comment at the top?_

_(Also, getting up chapters this fast is **extremely** unusual.)_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	8. Chapter 6

_Hey guys and gals! Sorry for the long wait but I've been VERY busy. Anyways, if any of you actually care I'm just going to say that this chapter is more lighthearted and centers around character and relationship development rather than plot development. That's also why it's a bit on the shorter side as well._

_(I'll scan over this for any mistakes when I get home to my actual computer later.)_

* * *

"Wake up Agent Texas," The Director's voice echos through the speakers in my room, rousing me from my slumber, "report to training facility two in twenty minutes."

A small groan escapes my lips as I slowly sit up to do the voice's bidding. I throw the sheets out of the way and lean over the side of my bed, letting my feet pad on to the cold metal ground. A chilling shiver runs down my spine as I stand and lazily walk toward my private bathroom.

Once inside, I grab a small cloth off of one of the shelves and run it under some cold water before going about waking myself up. I glide the cloth over my face and neck and savor the welcome moisture. However, not one to waste time, I finish up and throw the cloth away before walking out and suiting up.

After ten minutes of going through the familiar but painstaking routine, I finally get my armor on completely and head out the door. It's only as the door slides closed behind me that I look up at the wall opposite me that I realize where I'm going.

A few days have passed since the grenade incident and, until now, the Director had put me back to my isolating schedule. I hadn't been able to check on York or see anyone else since the first night when I snuck into the infirmary. I haven't been able to decide whether I prefer the reversion anymore though.

I deliberately turn to my left and head out toward my new destination, now unsure of how the day will play out.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Not wanting to run into any of the other Freelancers earlier than I had to, I decided to use the entrance that leads directly into the training field rather than use the elevator in the gallery. It didn't help very much though, due to the fact that North and another grey armored Freelancer, Agent Washington, were standing in the middle of the grounds.

It took them no time at all to notice me walking out through the colossal entryway and beckoned me over to them. I did not hesitate to jog over to them, but I couldn't help the doubt that silently crept through me.

"Relax Texas." Omega reassures me as I run.

I roll my eyes at the hidden AI, but do a double take above me when a splash of color catches my eye. Up in the gallery, I notice the unmistakable light blue armor of Carolina watching over us like fucking Big Brother. Even at this distance, I know that she is glaring down at me specifically.

"Hey there." North says when I'm close enough, effectively redirecting my focus on to them.

"Uh, hey." I reply as I come to a stop in front of them, unsure of what else to say.

He takes a step closer to me, that friendly air radiating off of him just like it did a year ago. He looks back at Washington for a moment before looking at me again.

"I'm North Dakota, and this here," He jerks his head toward the other Freelancer, "is Washington."

I feel relief flood through me as I quickly realize they held no grudge against me for the incident with York. However, I'm faced with another problem when I debate whether to tell him that we've met before. I take a moment before realizing I couldn't actually tell the story of my extended disappearance that would inevitably have to come with our reintroduction. Before even my first training session with the other Freelancers, the Director told me that I couldn't let the others know that I had an AI. He gave no explanation why, and I didn't bother to question it. Orders are orders.

I force my mind back to our present conversation and look up at North, "I'm Texas."

North chuckles slightly, "So I've heard."

I cock my head to the side and add defensively, "What do you mean?"

"Oh nothing bad." He reassures me, noticing my tone, "Just talking about how you beat the shit out of the big boys a couple days ago."

Unbeknownst to him, I smile at the man in front of me before letting it fall, "Yeah, well it was a little bittersweet."

"We don't blame you, you know." Washington speaks for the first time and I shift my gaze to meet his, "You probably saved his life."

"Thanks, but I'm not sure everyone feels quite the same way." I deliberately shift my sights toward the gallery where Carolina resides.

"Don't worry about her." North consoles me while placing his hand on my shoulder, "She'll come to her senses sooner or later."

I nod as he removes his hand from my person and takes a step back. I watch his movement and I'm suddenly reminded of where we are and what that entails. I smirk and look back in forth between the two men.

"So," I grab my fisted left hand and pop my knuckles with my right while cracking my neck, "who's first?"

The panic between the two is almost tangible as they whip their heads back and forth between me and each other. Simultaneously, they each lift their arm and point at the other.

"_Him!_"

... ... ... ... ... ...

"Jesus Christ Tex! Shit—!" North babbles as I knock him to the ground with one last solid punch.

"Hand to hand combat training: complete." FILSS announces, bringing our fight to an end.

I let out a huff as I regain my breath and look down at North as he slowly sits up. I lean over, offering my hand and he gratefully grabs it before I pull him up on his feet. Once up, I give him a solid slap on the back that sends him reeling forward enough that it was almost comical.

I smile and look over at Wash, who was still struggling to get up, "How fares the great and powerful Agent Washington?"

"Fuck you Tex!" He shouts grudgingly and I can't help but chuckle at his aggravation.

"I take it you've had enough then?" I offer as North walks up beside me, now stable on his feet.

"I've had enough since the first round." North answers for Wash and looks down at me, "C'mon, let's go get some grub. We've been at this for hours."

"Su—Wait, no. The Director said he needed me for something when I was finished up here." I lie smoothly.

I wanted to go eat with them, I actually liked these two Freelancers, but there was too much of a risk of someone seeing the scars on my neck from the AI implantation. Not only that, but there was a chance that North could recognize me even though I chopped off most of my hair since he last saw my face. If he did end up recognizing me, I would have to come up with one hell of a lie to explain why I vanished for a whole year.

"Alright. Some other time then?" North calls over his shoulder as he begins to aid Wash.

"Yeah. Of course." I answer quickly as North gets Wash on his feet and starts making their way toward the door.

"See you later Tex!" Wash calls out happily, seeming to have momentarily forgotten the beating I just gave them both.

I lift my hand in an unseen gesture of farewell and say loud enough for them to hear, "Sure..."

Once they are gone, I glance up at the gallery to see that Carolina is standing at the same spot that I had last seen her in. Whether or not she has been the entire time, I have no idea. I decide to keep my hand raised and offer it as a greeting to her when I turn to face the gallery. I wait, but she does not react to my gesture and instead turns around and disappears from my sight.

I sigh in defeat as I let my hand drop, "See you later then too."

* * *

_Good? Bad? How are you liking this Tex?_

_Btw, if any of you want a quick visual of what Tex looks like beneath her helmet, I drew a quick 10 minute sketch of her over on DeviantArt if any of you are interested. Mind you, it is subject to change slightly over time. Username: IAmWhateverXEquals _

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	9. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait but I've been trying to get a part time job and yada yada yada I'm not going to bore you with it. Anyways, this chapter is shorter again, but I wanted to get something up for you all. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

The next week and a half passes in a blur of motion. Every morning I woke up and went directly to my new training ground and met up with North and Wash before we trained together. However, rather than always having me beat the shit out of them every day, we started to do – for lack of a better word – "team building exercises". It took me a bit to get back in the groove of working with others, but the three of us have started to develop some kind of chemistry.

When we first started, I internally questioned the Director's choice of having Wash be a part of… whatever this was supposed to be. It's not like Wash is incompetent, but of the few Freelancers I've seen in action, he's without a doubt the worst fighter. It wasn't until a few days into our training that he proved to be more useful than he looked. Not only was he a decent shot with a battle rifle, but he was good with our tech. And when I say "good with our tech", I mean un-fucking-believably good with it. Give him any kind of broken machine, and he'll fix it faster than any of us could dream to. If I ever have any more problems with my arm, he probably would be the one I go to. Well, if he _knew_ about my mechanical arm that is.

I haven't even taken any of my armor off in front of them, let alone show off my missing limb. I know they wouldn't react negatively to it, there's no question about that. They've seen enough to know that these things happen. Hell, Wash could probably make it work even better than it already does, but I'm just not quite ready to tell them yet. They still see me as fresh and new. They still see me as a whole.

"Tex? Tex, are you listening to me?" I hear a voice break through my haze.

"Huh?" I look up from staring at my right hand and see Wash standing by the edge of training floor with me, "Sorry. Just zoned out for a sec."

"Hm." He grunts nonchalantly before repeating what he had said, "Well anyways, do you want to grab something to eat with us?"

I look over at where North is, standing not too far away. When he looks up at me, I feel my insides squirm uncomfortably with the knowledge that I am going to have to decline. Again.

"I can't. I've got some stuff to do."

There is a long pause as I wait for Wash to accept my answer, as he has done every morning this week, but his acknowledgement never comes. Instead, he cocks his head to the side and moves so that he's standing directly in front of me.

"Do you secretly hate us or something?" he asks, half joking.

"What? No, of course not." I answer quickly and gently shoulder by him, secretly hoping I can somehow run away from this conversation.

"Just give us more time, I'm sure you'll come to hate our guts eventually." North's good humored voice comes to my rescue from nowhere and ends our quick argument.

I make it to the colossal ground floor door and am left waiting for it to open when they catch up to me. They flank me on both sides and I glance at North to see that he is calm, content with not knowing why I never eat with them. Wash, on the other hand, is fidgeting with every piece of his armor that he can get his hands on. I sigh in defeat when the door finally opens and we begin to walk, our three sets of boots clacking on the metal floor.

"I can't tell you." I mumble just loud enough for them to hear.

"Can't tell us what?" North inquires, glancing over at me for only a moment.

"I'm under orders from the Director not to tell anyone why I don't eat in the cafeteria like everyone else." _Technically_ it's not a lie, but I keep my eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at either of them.

They are both quiet for a time, digesting this new information. In fact, we are just about to go our separate ways, them to the locker room and myself to my room when one of them speaks again.

"Do these super secret, non-disclosure orders from the Director also include why you don't use our locker room?" Wash pipes up stupidly when we arrive at the locker room entrance.

I give him a light slap on the back of the head, "What do you think Wash?"

I hear North's small snigger as I shake my head and start walking in the other direction, away from them. I'm just about to round the corner of the short corridor when I hear Wash call out in farewell, "So that's a "yes" then?"

I smile slightly as I turn the bend, but it quickly fades when I see Carolina, fully suited, arms crossed, and standing only a few feet away. I haven't had any face to face interaction with her since the night in the infirmary, so I'm caught off guard by the sudden interjection.

"You have orders not to use our locker room?" She suddenly asks incredulously, "What kind of bullshit is that?"

Now it's my turn to cross my arms defensively, "The true kind of bullshit. Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know." She says and takes a step toward me, "In fact, I don't know a lot about you, _Texas_."

"Then by all means, ask away, _Carolina_." I lean in closer and mimic her sneering tone.

Carolina jerks away from me somewhat, probably not expecting my answer, "Fine."

I take a step back as well, waiting for her to continue.

"What unit were you in before this one?"

Damn.

"UNSC Marine Corps. First Sergeant of the 120th division under Colonel Sams. I was approached by the Director while I was on leave." I answer truthfully.

"You don't learn to fight the way you do in the Marines." She immediately counters, as I had expected, "And you already look at home in that armor."

I feel my face twitch slightly in annoyance. It's true that I didn't learn to fight in the Marines. I had learned on the streets long before that, but I got my structure and training from my time in the military and with the Director. Most of that I could explain, but she had me with the suit.

I don't care who you are, it takes time to get used to this kind of armor. It's heavy and doesn't move in the way you expect it would. It restricts in some areas and frees the body in others. Even with Omega's help, it took me three weeks before I was finally comfortable with it.

I take a deep breath to try and stall, but I can't come up with anything to say, and Carolina notices it. As she watches me struggle, the air around her swiftly becomes one of triumph. She uncrosses her arms and tilts her head up in supremacy as she begins to pass by me. However, she stops just as we are standing side to side, facing opposite directions.

"So, like I said…" She leans in toward my ear and whispers, "Bullshit."

I have to bite my tongue and clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I know I would regret as she starts to walk away again. It's an absolute miracle that Omega was signed off during this interaction. It's hard enough to control him when I'm not naturally enraged.

I wait until I can no longer hear her footsteps before I find that I can walk again. I unclench my fists as I start walking and suddenly realize that I want to get this armor off.

I _really _want to get this armor off.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Do you like the pace that this is going?_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	10. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! I wanted to make up for lost time so I made a nice long chapter for you all! I hope you enjoy!_

_P.S. I actually have the next chapter ready to upload, but I'm going to wait a day or two to upload it so that I can polish it._

* * *

"I have another mission for you." The Director says before I even get the chance to step into his office.

Still pretty upset, I had almost made it to my room after my confrontation with Carolina when FILSS called me to the Director's office over the loudspeaker. I only took a moment to compose myself, to quickly bury my feelings for a short time before turning around and coming directly here. No questions asked.

"Of course sir." I answer as I walk in front of his white desk and stand at attention.

"Yes." He stops looking at the papers in front of him and looks up at my form, "Yes, I have a mission for you."

The tone of his voice told me that he had more to add to that statement, so I wait stiffly for him to continue. Rather than continue immediately though, he takes to staring at my visor as he rubs his bearded chin thoughtfully. His eyes narrow, as if he's looking for something, but he's unable to locate it.

He doesn't break my gaze as he abruptly starts talking again, "Take off your helmet, Andra."

I'm a bit taken aback by the use of my real name paired with the unusual request. However, I only pause a second before unclipping the straps holding my helmet in place and lifting it off. No questions asked.

Once the cover is off, I quickly run my hand through my sweat soaked hair before looking at the Director again. When I meet his gaze, I watch as he removes the hazy glasses that he always wears and begins to study me. Having only seen the look on his face once before, I feel awkward as his eyes soften at the sight of me. This is the second time that he's looked directly into my eyes, the other being the first day he recruited me. Unsure if I should be doing something else as well, I'm just left standing obtusely as he stares.

"You have fierce eyes." He says softly.

Completely baffled as to how to react to such a comment from my superior, I keep completely still, unmoving. He seems to notice how uncomfortable I am, because a second later, he slips his glasses back on, reverting back to normal in a second.

"You may put your helmet back on, Agent Texas." He interjects quickly.

I clear my throat roughly before clumsily shoving my helmet on. I feel my face become red as my hand slips not once, but twice, as I try to secure the clips on my neck. I want to forget that this interaction ever happened.

"Now, about your mission." He begins while standing up and slowly pacing behind his desk, "You will be going in with a team, however, they will not know you are there."

I make sure that I do not show any outward signs of my disappointment, but I consciously clench my jaw at the unfairness of his words. The one and only thing I told him that I did not want to do again, and here he is, telling me I have to do it again.

He, however, carries on, unaware of my inner turmoil, "A group of Freelancers, yet to be determined, codename Team A, will be infiltrating a 110 story building around an urban environment to acquire an important package. Another group, Team B will be acquiring an equally important parcel in another area of the city. While they are performing their part, you will make your way up to the roof of the structure and transmit your coordinates back up here to the Mother of Invention. From there, once the package is in hand, we will use the ship's pulse canon to destroy anything and everything left in the building. We don't need them to know what exactly we took."

Once he finishes, I nod my head solemnly. No questions asked.

"You will receive more detailed instructions en route tomorrow morning." He says before turning around to face his giant window looking out into deep space.

Taking this as my dismissal, I turn on my heel and start to walk out the door. As it slides open and I begin to walk out, the Director's voice stops me in my tracks.

"Oh, and one more thing." He turns to face me again, and I him before he continues, "I know that you are getting closer with the other Agents, specifically Agents North and Washington, and I want you to continue doing this, but I need you at your very best tomorrow."

I nod with a little more vigor this time, "You will never get less than my best sir. You have my word."

He takes a breath before glancing at the ground, "As much as I would like to trust your word, I can't. If this mission goes south and you need to deliver either package yourself, I need to know that there will be no distractions. Therefore, I must make it an order that you use Omega throughout this task. He will keep you focused and… detached."

I feel a hot flash of anger course through me at this point. In our line of work, things go wrong all the time, but now the Director is telling me that if push comes to shove, I will have to deliver a package and leave the other Freelancers to die in that building. I wouldn't even get a chance to warn them, Omega would make sure of that.

With the last of my self-restraint dwindling, all I can manage is a strained, "Yes sir.", paired with a salute before darting out of the room. No questions asked.

I only make it just around the corner before I finally feel everything boil over. My ire with Carolina and her mouth, my inability to interact completely with other soldiers, my outrage with the Director and his decisions, they all come crashing down on me at once. Without thinking, without even caring, I let loose my fury on the metal hallway wall.

I yell incoherently as I land a solid punch with my right fist, leaving a dent where metal met metal. And then, realizing it felt good, almost satisfying, I do it again. And again.

And again.

I only stop when I feel a prick on the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. Breathing heavily, I whip around to face my intruder and feel my spine stiffen when I realize that it's Carolina, unmasked with her casuals on. The look on her face can only be described as shock, and, for some reason, this pisses me off even more.

"_What?_" I bellow at her, unable to control myself. She's lucky she's bare at the moment, if she still had her armor on, I don't know what I'd do to her.

Initially, she doesn't react as she periodically moves her gaze from the dent in the wall and myself, but she soon gets a hold of herself and looks directly into my visor. Her eyes narrow, but not in an aggressive way, it's more like she was curious.

"Nothing." She says, shrugging slightly.

I can still feel the anger, albeit now subdued, pounding around in my head as she casually strolls by me and around the corner, out of my sight.

No questions asked.

… … … … … …

One would think I hate my room by now. With all the time I've spent in it, isolated from the rest of the world. Most people would see it as a prison, but I don't. For me, it's an escape, an escape from everything going on out there.

In here I am safe. In here, I don't have to worry about anyone but myself.

This is the mantra I play through my head over and over again as I take off my armor. Each piece I remove, one by one, and inspect every inch of it for any parts that may need replacing. Thankfully, I don't find any that need immediate attention so I throw the set in a bag and chuck it haphazardly into my closet.

Now in my skin tight suit but free of the metal, I quickly make my way to the bathroom and quietly shut the door behind me. Almost unconsciously, I walk towards my shower, intent on getting clean, but I pause when I see my reflection out of the corner of my eye. Thinking back on what the Director had said earlier, I slowly walk over to the mirror and look at myself.

I don't see what the big deal is. The heart shaped frame for my face holds two dark grey irises, a medium sized nose, and a mouth with a thin upper lip. It's attractive enough, but I have never been concerned about that. In fact, it still just looks like a very familiar, very pale face to me. Nothing more, nothing less.

I let out a small "humpf" before turning away from my reflection, not giving it a second thought as I start to run the water in my shower.

… … … … … …

"Fall back Carolina! I've got this." I call out to my teal armored companion over the roar of my motorcycle.

"You fall back!" She spits back at me as she uses her suit's enhancements to run and move just as fast as my bike is. I furrow my brows in frustration at her stubbornness before speeding ahead of her to catch up with the fleeing insurrectionist.

I'm not completely sure how it came down to me and Carolina being in pursuit of Team B's objective, but one thing's for sure, it happened very quickly. One moment, I was on the roof of the building, doing my job, the next, I was securing Team A's rather large package, all the while in free fall. After acquiring a jetpack from an enemy soldier I was able to fly to safety, but I soon got a distress call from Team B saying they had lost the briefcase that they were trying to attain. I didn't hesitate to call down a pod from the Mother of Invention that contained my bike, or as I like to call it, "The Badger", and head in their direction.

Which brings me back to the problem at hand.

The insurrectionist had a jetpack, which was why he was able to get away in the first place, and now he was using it to get to a low flying, get away helicopter. If my own jetpack hadn't been damaged earlier, I could catch him easily, but seeing as I no longer have it, I realize that I'm going to have to improvise.

"Hey Carolina!" I call out to her and she glances over, "Get ready!"

I see her do a double take at my form, "For what?"

I only smirk under my visor as I take the ramp off of the side of the road and pull on the throttle. The moment I feel the Badger lift off the ground, I use my legs to propel me into a back flip while the bike flies straight and true toward the hovering helicopter.

I see the sky for only a moment before I feel the soles of my feel hit solid ground. I quickly look up to make sure my plan had worked and am more than satisfied when I see the helicopter going down in all sorts of flames. The only part that wasn't to my satisfaction was the fact that the insurrectionist was still alive and still had the briefcase, but that's where Carolina comes in.

I feel a gust of air as she shoots by me in chase of the enemy, so I only take a moment to watch her before I follow her lead. I may not have her speed enhancement, but that doesn't mean I'm slow. With Omega to help me, I'm able to track her movements and find the best pursuit angles to catch up with her.

Not much time passes before her movement suddenly stops. Hoping it's for the better and not the worse, I make my way to the highway she found residence on only to find the briefcase sitting on the other side of the street where she is laying, face down. I look around for the enemy, but he's nowhere to be found.

"Omega, check her vitals." I say immediately as I try to make my way toward her, but I find my suit unwilling.

Omega had rerouted the power, using my own suit against me and making it extremely difficult to move, "No Texas, go get the briefcase. That is the objective."

"_Fuck objectives!_" I yell at my AI, hardly believing my ears, "The mission is complete, there are no more insurrectionists around here!"

"You don't like her anyways." He purrs in my ear, "Now go complete the mission. Go _win_."

"That doesn't mean I want her _dead!_" I retort, making very little progress in trying to reach her prone form, "Omega, log off!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. I have orders from the Director himself not to log off for the duration of this mission. Now, if you go get the briefcase, I will tell you if she's still alive." Omega compromises and I grudgingly submit.

As he returns power to normal levels, I sprint to the briefcase and snatch it off the ground before he has time to change his mind. Once I have the parcel securely in my possession, I look up and let out a sigh of relief as I see that Carolina is slowly sitting up on her knees. She looks injured, but at least she's still alive.

I clip the briefcase to my back so that I don't have to carry it as I start to run. However, afraid that Omega may not let me go see her unless I call in positive on the capture of the objective, I patch in my radio to base as I jog over to her, "Command? This is Agent Texas, the package is secure."

I vaguely hear the Director give me praise through my radio, but I'm more focused on not getting killed by the cars flying across the road I'm crossing. When I finally do reach Carolina, she is still on her knees, her helmet having fallen off on to the ground by her, and she's clutching her side. She looks up at me, a mixture of pain and repugnance etched across her features. It's probably the last thing she wants me to feel towards her, but I can't help the small amount of pity that ripples through me.

"C'mon," I say as I reach down and grab her around the chest, "get up."

She does as she's told, leaning heavily on me as I look to the sky and see a friendly pelican making its way toward us. When it's close enough, the back hatch opens to reveal several of my fellow Freelancers waiting inside. York jumps out, wait… York? He wasn't even on the roster. He was still supposed to be back in the hospital! Did he have some kind of death wish?

Whatever the case, he's here now and offering to take Carolina's weight. I hesitate a moment before handing over her arm and watching as he gets her onto the ship. Before following them, I grab Carolina's helmet off the ground and jump on just before the pilot takes off.

Compensating for the motion of the pelican, I grab onto the rafters above me and make my way to where York is securing Carolina in a harness. When he's finished, I nudge his arm with the helmet I'm holding and offer it to him. He takes it with a quick "Thanks." before sitting down in the seat right next to Carolina.

I nod at the pair before going to the other side of the transport and taking a seat next to a harnessed, but uninjured Wash. I incline my head in greeting before I look around at the other soldiers.

Agent Connecticut, in her brown and white armor, is just down the row, sitting next to a profusely bleeding Maine. I lean forward to try and get a better look, but have no luck as she is working to stop the bleeding. I tear my eyes away and look across from me and see a passed out Agent Wyoming, although I have no idea why he's unconscious.

My roaming eyes become focused on North when he suddenly appears and pats me on the back. I do not object when takes the seat on the other side of me. I even smile at him, but quickly realize that he can't see the gesture so I nod my head.

"Good job." He says quietly jerking his head at the white briefcase on my back.

"Thanks." I answer just as quietly as I glance over at Carolina.

By the look on her face, there is no question that she saw and heard our quick interaction. She's shooting me a death glare and I can't find any words to say to her. We worked together to get it, everyone knows it, so I just leave her to seethe in her own fury as I lay my head back and close my eyes, finally able to rest.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Are you liking this Tex-Carolina dynamic?_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	11. Chapter 9

_This is it guys, this chapter contains the scene that inspired this entire fic. I've been waiting a long time just to get here, and I think I did it justice, but I'll let you decide that yourselves._

_As always, I will give it one last proofread tomorrow._

_I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_WHACK!_

That's all I hear before my body slams into the unforgiving metal ground.

"Round over. Point North Dakota." FILSS' voice calls through the loudspeaker before all goes quiet in training ground two.

I let out a small groan as I get up on to my knees and look over at where North is standing, completely baffled at what he had managed to do. He keeps switching his gaze from me to his still extended fist as he tries to comprehend what just happened. One minute, North and I were casually fighting, nothing too hard. It was more like a warm up really. We were even having three way conversation with Wash, who was standing off to the side. It was only when the grey armored Freelancer had made a certain comment that I froze up, too shocked to move. That's when North got the drop on me.

I'm up on my feet in seconds, now ignoring North's form as I run over to Wash and ask in a very calculated manner, "Say that again."

Wash leans his torso back as I invade his personal space, "Say what again?"

"What you just said," I reply, now exasperated, "about York!"

I see his helmet move in North's direction before landing on me again, "I just said that York's getting some kind of AI enhancement tomorrow. No big deal."

I feel dread pool in my stomach as I absorb his words and take a step away from him. Feeling suddenly disoriented, my eyes shoot around the room in a frenzy before they finally land on the exit. With saying a word, I do a drop step toward it before sprinting to the giant door, sliding under the smallest gap I can fit through as it starts to open.

I'm nearly all the way down the corridor when I hear Wash's faint voice, "Wa... Wait! What's wrong?!"

... ... ... ... ... ...

_Thunk Thunk Thunk_

I pound on the Director's door before I take a step back and wait for some kind of response. There is a short beat before his door slides open, revealing his office to me. I stride into the room, doing everything I can to stop myself from pacing as I snap to attention in front of the aging man.

"At ease Agent." He says as he casually leans back in his chair, "What can I do for you?"

I can't find it in myself to relax my stance before replying, "Sir, I heard that you were planning on implanting a new AI fragment into one of the other Freelancers. Is this true?"

It's been five days since our last mission in the city. Apparently, the items we acquired had something to do with the creation of the fragments. Although, I honestly don't really care about that. I just care about the fact that he's already decided to put one into York's head _without telling me_.

"Yes, Agent Texas, what you heard is true. Agent New York is scheduled for implantation tomorrow morning." He says as if this is a common occurrence.

I feel an emotion that can only be described as alarm at the Director's conformation. Did York know what having one of these things in his head will do to him? Did he even have a choice? It's life altering in the most extreme sense. I literally gave up my arm and two ribs to have one of them. He just got cleared from the hospital a few days ago. According to the medics, York's lost almost all sight in his left eye, was he really willing to give up even more?

I clear my throat and feel my head jerk slightly to the side, forcing myself to stay calm, "Sir, are you sure that implanting more of them is a good idea? You know how dangerous Omega can be."

I see the Director's gaze deliberately shift to my right arm before he speaks, "I am well aware of how much you've sacrificed for this Project, but the experimental phase of the AI fragments is over. Your reports have shown us the flaws in these programs, and we have found solutions for each of them. It is time to move forward."

Taking a deep breath, I wait a moment before quietly responding, "Yes sir."

Putting his elbows on his chair's armrest, he laces his fingers together, "I'm glad you understand. Now, is that all?"

I'm about to give him the affirmative, but an unexpected thought crosses through my mind first, "Actually, no sir. I was wondering, if everyone now knows about the AIs, do I have to hide Omega anymore?"

I think he had foreseen this being a question of mine, because his answer is immediate, "No, you do not have to hide his existence anymore. Feel free to tell the others at your leisure."

My uneasiness about York's implantation mixed with my happiness about no longer having to hide Omega leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth, "Thank you sir."

He inclines his head, "You've done well, Texas. Now, if that is all, you are dismissed."

"Yes sir." I give him a salute before turning around and walking out the door.

With the door shut behind me, I pause, looking down both directions of the hall. One way leads back to the training ground while the other leads to my room. I hesitate, even taking a step in the direction of the training area, before I change my mind and begin the trek back to my room.

I'll talk to North and Wash tomorrow.

… … … … … …

Fuck.

I try the knob again, but don't have any more luck than I did the first time.

_Fuck._

I look up at the shower head to see if there is any blockage, but find none. In fact, I see nothing at all that should stop my shower from working. I sigh in frustration before I lean out of the shower and glare at it.

If this wasn't irony, then I don't know what is.

Only an hour ago, I'm told that I no longer have to keep Omega a secret, and now my shower is broken. No longer having to worry about anyone seeing the scars on my neck means that I can go shower in the locker room. The odds of this happening are astronomically low, yet here I am, the one in a million.

I take another moment to glare irritably at my useless shower before turning around and exiting the bathroom. I want to head out immediately, but the fact that I'm still only in the under layer of my suit has me pausing in the middle of my room.

I have two options. I can either, one, take off my suit and make my way there in some of my casuals. Or, two, I could take the time to put my armor back on and then go. Both options have their merits, but I quickly decide that I'd rather not draw attention to myself before I have to, so I go with putting my armor back on.

It takes me a few minutes to complete the routine, but by the time I finish, I feel more than secure about my decision. I glance up at the clock which reads 12:13 and realize that most of the Freelancers are probably at lunch. Mandatory training doesn't resume until 14:00, which means there's only a very small chance that anyone will be in the locker room.

Armed with this knowledge, I quickly grab a large sling bag out of my closet and fill it with a towel, clothes, and anything else I might need before walking out my door. My senses feel heightened as I walk, preparing myself if there does actually happen to be someone in there. Although, I don't know how I'm going to handle it if there actually is someone though, especially if it's Wash or North. Most likely just ignore them, let them make their own assumptions. I really don't know.

The walk there is uneventful. I don't pass anyone that I know, only a few unspecialized soldiers and a medic. It isn't until the locker room doors slide open that nervousness begins to crawl through my system. I tilt my head to the side, holding my breath as I listen for any kind of movement. When I don't hear anything, I gingerly take a step inside, looking to my left and right but don't see anyone. With each step I make toward the nearest row of lockers, I feel my confidence grow.

Looking at the one closest to the door, I'm surprised when I see the name, "Texas" etched on the label. I look around one more time at the apparently barren locker room before walking up to it. Looking down at the keypad, I suddenly realize that I have absolutely _no_ idea what the lock code is. I look up at the heavens, hoping that will somehow help when an idea pops into my head. I turn the keypad on and promptly punch in the code for my room and am more than happy when the door unlocks.

With no time to waste, I take my armor off in record time and throw everything I don't need in my locker. Once I shut the door, I walk over to the community shower heads in the back corner, hidden away from view, and turn one of the knobs. I let out an audible sigh of relief when I see the water successfully come pouring down.

… … … … … …

Today is just not my day.

"I swear to God, I will put you through this wall right now if you don't shut up Wyoming." I freeze when I hear York's very audible voice coming from the entrance of the locker room.

"I second that." I hear North's masculine vibrato come from the same area.

I'm currently standing just around the corner from where they are, thankfully fully clothed in casuals, but with sopping wet hair from my shower. I look around, completely at a loss for what to do. This was not at all how I wanted them to see me for the first time. However, I feel my panic subside and curiosity take its place when I hear what has to be more than just three pairs of boots in the room.

"Well, he does have a point you know." I hear Carolina say, apparently defending Wyoming about something, "I have a theory about her too."

"Then by all means, do tell." I hear South's sarcastic tone.

With the unmistakable sounds of armor being taken off as background noise, Carolina continues as if South never said anything, "The other day, I saw her put a huge dent in the side of one of the corridor walls. That stuff is high grade, supposed to hold under missile fire, it doesn't bend without some serious force."

"Okay." Wash pipes up, "So what's your point?"

"My point, Wash, is that I think she has an AI. You guys heard what the Director said, those things make us stronger and faster, all around better. There's no way she could do what she does without some help." Carolina finishes with confidence.

There is a long pause before North speaks, "Maybe. But either way, she's a good soldier, and that's all that really matters here."

"I wonder what— oh, hello there. Who's this?" Wyoming says, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Not wanting to hear any more of what they had to say, in a surge sheer faith, I had rounded the corner and into full view of the other Freelancers. With each one of their suits being in a different stage of removal and from both sides of the walkway, Agents Wyoming, York, North, South, Wash, and Carolina silently stare at me. All of them at least have their helmet removed, so I decide to quickly sweep each one of their faces in search of some kind of recognition, but I find none. Their expressions only show a hint of either polite or hostile curiosity.

I'm not sure why, but I find myself more upset than I should be that my teammates were talking about me behind my back. They weren't necessarily saying bad things about me, but all their voices, even North's and Wash's, seemed laced with doubt when they were talking. It's like they didn't trust me.

Time to change that.

I glance at Carolina and notice that her eyes are transfigured on my robotic arm. I feel my hand twitch unconsciously under her gaze so I turn my head to look at York and notice that he is still looking up at my face. It's when we lock gazes, and I see his handicapped eye, that I feel a steely resolve course through me.

Without bothering to answer Wyoming's inquiry, I whip my towel out from around my neck and rub it over my hair as I walk through the narrow pathway created by their piles of armor. I can feel their eyes on my back as I pass each of them, but I refuse to acknowledge anyone as I step up to my locker. There is absolute silence as they watch me open the door, their eyes fixed on the clearly visible name plaque. As I lean down and throw my bag and towel into the opening, I find the most inappropriately timed humor in the fact that, because I'm wearing a black sleeveless undershirt, they can see my bionic limb in its complete glory.

When everything is set, I slam the door shut, it's sound piercing and edgy in the quiet of the room. I keep my left hand on the cold metal and let my head hang low, taking a moment to prepare myself for what's to come. I close my eyes, take a deep, unhitched breath before I snap my head up to look at Carolina. In the least aggressive way that I can manage, I walk up to her until we are face to face.

Seeing as the only piece of armor that she has removed so far is her helmet, Carolina towers over me, but I do not back down. The rest of the world fades around me as I stare directly into her bright green eyes.

"Omega, come on out." I say with the least amount of emotion possible. I've had him obscurely online since I had left the training hall this morning, so he knew the new rules.

Immediately on command, Omega's small hologram fades in on my shoulder, his image a holographic, dark grey replica of my suit. Carolina jumps the tiniest bit at his sudden appearance, but other than that, she doesn't react. The scowl on her face is ever present as she studies him.

"Omega?" I say in the same tone as before.

"Yes?" He answers coolly, completely aware of the strong tension between Carolina and myself.

"Tell them the story of how I lost my arm."

There is a subtle shift in the muted air of the room. Before, there was a feeling of shock and awe drifting from the others, but now it's something different. Something more akin to fear.

"Very well." Omega answers before he begins his tale, "Approximately five months ago, Agent Texas was in pursuit of a General of the Resistance when she came across a very wide chasm. She wanted to find another way around, but I would not allow it; the objective was getting away. Therefore, I took matters into my own hands and used my power over her mind and body to make her jump the gap. As she had predicted, she did not make it. We fell down into the abyss and, on initial impact, did not sustain severe injury. It was the large boulder landing on top of her immediately after that caused substantial trauma.

"Our medics did everything they could, but her arm was completely crushed, as were several of her ribs. Today, Agent Texas effectively uses an entirely mechanical arm along with two artificial ribs. The host of a fragmented AI's ability to have us shut down on request was gained from this accident. The General, however, was never caught."

He adds the last sentence almost as an afterthought, and I do not look away from Carolina as I dismiss him, "Thank you Omega. You can log off now."

Throughout the story, my gaze did not waver from Carolina's. I watched the emotions in her eyes change ever so slightly from disdain to dismay and then finishing on understanding. Which was more than I could ever hope for.

"You were the test subject for the AI fragments." Carolina states it as a fact.

"I was." I say quietly and watch the conflict play over her face.

Deciding to give her time to digest this information, I move my sights away from Carolina and look at York, sitting on the bench across from us, "I've been able to work out most of the bugs for them to fix, but I thought you should know what you were getting in to."

He does not look afraid at my words, in fact, he looks even more determined than before. There may even be a small tint of reverence in his eyes, but I can't tell for sure. I offer him a modest smile, but it immediately fades when I catch the look on North's face out of the corner of my eye.

Sitting next to York, North's mood is a stark contrast of shock and sorrow, even borderline devastation, as he looks at me. It takes me no time at all to realize that he has, somehow, finally recognized me from a year ago. I'm not sure what gave me away, but looking at him, it almost breaks my heart to watch the truth pass through his eyes.

Out of everyone in this room, he's the only one that's seen me as a true, fresh faced rookie. He's the only one who's really seen me whole, as my own person, without someone else in my head.

Feeling I need to somehow acknowledge his realization, I take the few steps needed to come within an arms length of him. I look down at his sitting form, my face showing no expression. I try instead, to convey consolation only through my eyes as I silently stick out my right arm, just as he did when we first met. Slightly confused, he looks from my hand to my face, and then back again before taking my bionic hand in his own flesh and blood.

Looking directly into his eyes, I finish our introduction from all those months ago, "I'm Texas. It's nice to finally meet you."

Not waiting to see what expression comes after the one of pure sorrow on his face, I turn and saunter out of the locker room, my hands lost in the deep pockets of my sweatpants.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Did I do their first face to face interaction justice? (That's the inspirational scene btw)_

_And yes, I know this is out of order from the show, but it will all make sense later, I promise._

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks! :)_


	12. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! Another shorter chapter here, so, you're welcome and sorry... I guess._

_Also, I just wanted to give a quick shout out to my loyal readers/reviewers: HeartlessCrimson, TunelessLyric, and pepergirl001. You guys give me the drive to keep writing this! :D_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

As soon as the locker room door slides shut behind me, I hear an eruption of commotion and voices from the inside, but I pay it no mind. I have nothing more to say to any of them right now.

I feel as if I'm in a daze of stupefaction as I aimlessly walk through the hallways of the giant ship. My steps are slow and deliberate, my athletic shoes hardly making a sound as I walk. Everything looks different, seen in a new light, both literally and metaphorically. I can hardly remember the last time I walked through these halls without my visor filtering everything in sight.

However, my trance is broken when I catch the scent of food coming from the cafeteria and suddenly realize how hungry I am. Feeling a tad ambitious in my current state, I follow the smell all the way to the large eatery.

Of course, I've been inside the cafeteria before, but never has it been so crowded. The grey, school time lunch tables are filled with crewmen, medics, soldiers, Freelancers I've never even met, and anyone else in between. I feel small and insignificant, like the new kid on the block as I take my first step into the loud room. I only receive a few curious glances as I try to appear casual while I weave through human obstacles and reach a basket filled with assorted fruits.

With my back to everyone, I quickly sift through the produce and snatch one of the few available cameo apples along with a partially green banana. With both in hand, I turn around and nearly jump in surprise when I come face to face with the casually clothed (and rather short) Agent Connecticut.

"Sorry," She says apologetically, noticing my fright, "I just wanted to get in there. Do you mind Texas?"

She's pointing at the basket right behind me, and I do a double take as I answer, "Wh— oh, sure."

Flustered, I step out of her way and quickly make my way toward the exit, any thought of staying and eating in here long gone. It isn't until I'm almost at the door, my mind clear enough, that something occurs to me.

I freeze before doing a complete one-eighty and locking sights on where Connecticut was just standing, but she's gone. I immediately scan the full room, standing on my tip toes and looking over the tops of people's heads to try and catch a glimpse of her. However, she is nowhere to be found. It's like she vanished into thin air.

I furrow my brows in a troubled manner before reluctantly turning around and starting to walk out of the room again. I try not to let it bother me as I head towards my room, but I can't help the nagging thought that keeps crossing through my mind:

Agent Connecticut was never in the locker room, so how the fuck did she know who I was?

… … … … … …

It's late, nearly ten o'clock, when I hear a knock at my door.

I almost miss it, the Director or Councilor usually just summon me to where they wish to talk, so I'm not used to hearing the sound anymore. Shooting the door a suspicious look, I lay my plex pad down next to me as I slowly sit up on my bunk. I slip my feet into some tennis shoes before cautiously walking up to the door and reaching for the button to open it. I pull my hand back a moment though, unsure, before deciding to get whatever this is over with and hitting the button.

When the door opens to reveal who is standing in the hall, my wariness is thrown away but I'm still left surprised when I see North's guilty form in front of me. Clad in his white t-shirt and jeans, it's clear that he's nervous about being at my doorstep when looks down at the ground before giving me a sheepish smile.

"Um, hi." He says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Moving my right forearm high on the doorframe, I raise my eyebrow and deadpan, "Hello."

"I, uh," He starts, "I just wanted to see you. To see how you're doing with… everything."

I can't help but shake my head and snicker slightly at his words, "I've been dealing with "everything" for over a year now. I'm fine."

When I finish my sentence with a tiny smile, I see his body physically relax. His nervousness is gone and he reverts to the North that I've come to know these past few weeks. He grins, showing off his white teeth, before taking a step closer to my unmoving form.

"I knew you would be. You're you." He states happily, but then becomes serious and lays a soft hand on my left shoulder, "Honestly, I actually came here to make sure you knew that you're not alone anymore. You have friends here now, and if you ever need anything, I— we're here for you."

I hear his slip of the tongue, but pay it no mind seeing as my focus is somewhere else. His hand, pleasant and comforting on my shoulder, is distracting me. Until just now, I hadn't realized how much I missed real human contact, even affection. His light touch is different than a handshake, it's deeper, more personal. It makes me feel content.

Looking in to North's light blue eyes, I suddenly realize that he's waiting for some kind of response from me. I take a split second to pull myself back together, trying to ignore the radiating heat of his hand, before giving him a jerky nod.

"I know North." I say before making a, personally, bold move and softly squeeze his extended wrist with my left hand, "Thanks."

His response is a warm, stunning smile that everyone should witness before they die, before his face suddenly contorts in to something unfamiliar. I only have a moment to identify it as uncertainty before he drops his hand off of my shoulder and takes a step back. His head hangs slightly to the side, for some reason, refusing to look at me.

Feeling an inexplicable chill run through me, I furrow my brows in confusion at the sudden change of demeanor, "What's wrong?"

At my words, his head jerks up to look me in the eye before he puts an obviously forced smile on his face, "Nothing."

Not accepting his explanation, I take a tentative step forward and gently urge him, "Hey, you're the one who just said we're friends. You can tell me what's wrong."

His strained smile wavers ever so slightly, but he doesn't let it fall, "No really, it's nothing. I have to go anyways. See you tomorrow morning?"

His body is now half turned away from me, obviously wanting to get away, but also not wanting to be rude. To give me something to do, I restlessly run my hand through my hair as I try to decide whether or not to give him the benefit of the doubt. I watch as North's eyes become more and more desperate with each passing second before I make my decision.

"Okay… Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." I say and take a step back into my doorway.

I expect him to bolt out of here without looking back, but he surprises me again when he turns to face me completely. We lock gazes, and out of the corner of my eye I can see his right hand start to reach out to me. However, it only gets so far before he sighs sadly and lets it drop back to his side. With the uncertainty still present on his face, he wordlessly turns away from me again and, this time, doesn't hesitate before walking down the hall and out of my sight.

When he's gone, I let out my own, more steadying sigh as I take one more step backwards and shut the door. Once I hear the air compress and the lock click, I suddenly find that I don't want to move anymore. I stare at the metal door in front of me with blank thoughts. The only thing I'm able to comprehend in this moment is an unusual, but unbelievably pleasant feeling swirling around inside of me.

"What's this?" Omega finally makes himself heard and chuckles as best he can, mocking my feelings from inside my head.

...

"Shut up, asshole."

* * *

_Good? Bad? Is this... this thing that just happened right here... is it acceptable...?_

_I've been debating this pairing since before this was even a story, so tell me your thoughts on it. In the end, I'll go with my gut, but input is always great. (It also probably didn't help that I listened to "Still Into You" by Paramore the entire time I wrote this :P)_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	13. Chapter 11

_Hey guys! So I actually hadn't realised how much more stuff I still have left to write in this story until I took the time to make a **huge** ass outline for what I have planned so... Be happy. XD_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

A surreal sensation courses through me as I walk up to the locker room door the next morning. It's still early enough so that only Wash, North, and myself should be using it, but it still feels strange. This time yesterday, none of the other Freelancers knew that I had an AI, and now, I'm walking into the locker room without the worry of exposing him.

When the door whizzes open in front of me, I take a step in and immediately see Wash sitting in front of his locker and strapping on his knee guards. When he hears my presence, he glances up through his visor, but does a double take, probably still not used to seeing me in the flesh. However, his demeanor does not waver in a negative way. He doesn't see me any different than he did yesterday morning, or the day before. I'm still Tex.

"Hey!" he says happily in greeting as he starts to work on the other leg.

"Morning," I say with significantly less enthusiasm, but pleasantly none the less.

He doesn't add anything more as I walk over to my locker and pop it open. I had left my armor and some extra clothes in here on purpose because, even if my shower did work, I felt that I should start to use the locker room. It's much closer to the training ground and, honestly, I'm tired of being isolated.

Wash and I work in a comfortable silence, the clicking sounds of our armor soft as we put on our respective suits. When he finishes, I expect him to get up and head out to the training facility, but he stays sitting on the bench across from me. He doesn't stare, or really watch me in any way, instead he looks around the room for what can only be idle entertainment. Not wanting him to feel obligated to wait on me, I look up from fitting my foot into one of my boots.

"You can go on ahead." I state before I move my focus back on to my boot, "You don't have to wait for me."

He looks down from where he had been staring at the ceiling. "Oh, yeah, I know. I just…uh…"

Glancing up again, I offer, "Wanted to ask me about Omega?"

"No!" he answers immediately so I shoot him an incredulous look. "Well… Yes."

I feel his quiet eyes on me for a time as I clamp my shin and calf set together on my leg. "I haven't got all day Wash. Spit it out."

There is another pause before he finally asks, "What's it like? Having another person inside your head, I mean."

I let out a small grunt as I snap my chest plate on. "Convenient when we're on missions, inconvenient when we're not. It's almost like having a gnat constantly buzzing in your ear. He monitors every tiny change in my body and mind and uses that to figure out my emotions, thought process, and just about anything else you can think of. Except when he's turned off of course."

I planned on having that be my finished explanation, but I suddenly feel I should clarify myself before we move on. "Well, actually, "turned off" isn't really the best way to describe it. It's more like he goes in to sleep mode. He's programmed to automatically come online if my vitals take a dive or something like that."

I can practically hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes this. "Okay, so if you can make him go off, why don't you just keep him off when you're not on a mission?"

"Because," I pull my glove over my right hand, "if I leave him off for more than a day, he wakes up in a panicked frenzy. He digs through my memories, filling in the gaps from his lost time. Of course this would be fine if, you know, it didn't leave me with a killer migraine and possible brain damage."

"You've had this happen to you before?" He asks, sliding down his bench so that he's sitting directly in front of me.

"Once. All part of the great," I throw my hands in the air in mock celebration, "_experiment_."

Now finished putting my body armor on, I snatch my helmet out from the bottom of my locker and put it on. Once I hear the unmistakable hiss of my helmet's air lock seal, I quickly stand and slam my locker door shut before facing Wash again.

A thought had been in the back of my mind since I had first stepped foot in the room and I try to play it cool as I finally voice it, "Where's North?"

Wash jerks his thumb toward the exit, "Left for the grounds not long before you got here."

I nod as we simultaneously start to walk toward the door, happy my suit is able to hide my outward expression of relief. As irrational as it seems, after his inexplicable behavior last night, I was scared that North may have asked to train with someone else. In fact, I hadn't realized I was scared of such a prospect until I had noticed he wasn't here.

Weird.

… … … … … …

"Wait, so you don't use Omega when you train with us?" Wash asks, somewhat amazed. The stream of questions hasn't had much pause since we had left the locker room two hours ago.

"Nope." I say as we stand off to the side, watching North run through the last of our solo simulations. "He's too unpredictable."

Wash looks over at me, "What do you mean?"

I want to mimic his motion, but I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from North. "If I don't keep a cool head, he can influence me to do things that I would never normally do. Like, for instance, try and jump across a huge, rocky chasm."

Probably unsure if he should shut up or laugh, Wash compromises with a hesitant chuckle. I smirk in amusement at his uncertainty before uncrossing my arms when I notice that North has completed his simulation. The purple clad Freelancer leans back with his hands on his hips, catching his breath before beckoning us over. We obey, jogging over to the middle at a leisurely pace.

"Winded are we?" I tease once we reach him.

"Shut up." North retaliates with a bellowing laugh and light shove to my shoulder. I find his laughter contagious and can't help it when I join him while, under my helmet, I raise an eyebrow in inquiry.

"You trying to start something?" I say, half joking and take a lazy fighting stance.

I can hear the smile in his voice as he takes a stance of his own. "Maybe."

"Oh God, not again..." I hear Wash's barely audible whisper as he takes a disinterested step away from us.

The exchange is short. North made the first mischievous move, quickly reaching up and wrapping his arm around my neck. His grip is tight, but also loose enough so that I can breath as he forces my torso down into a waist high headlock.

"Gotcha," he snickers.

Before he has time to do anything more though, I wrap my hands around his middle and use my legs to propel us forward, into the air. As we flip, I feel his arm go lax around my neck, so I free myself before we both land flat on our backs. Being the first to recover, I grab his shoulder and flip him so that he's laying face down. He starts to try and squirm to his knees, but I quickly jump on top of him and pin his hands behind his back.

With the side of his helmet pressed on the ground, I lean down closer to his ear and correct his earlier statement, "Not quite."

Even in defeat, I can feel the rumble of his laughter radiate through his armor. The playful moment suddenly brings back the warm feeling from last night, catching me off guard. The sound of his voice, so happy, so untroubled brings me more joy than I have felt for a long time.

"Hey, hate to break up the love fest," Wash says, alerting us that he is still in our presence, "but York's probably in recovery by now."

At his words, I promptly realize what a compromising position we are in. North, laying on the ground with me straddling him on top. I feel my cheeks go very warm as I jump off of North faster than I thought physically possible. I hear Wash's amused laugh as he watches us scramble to our feet and nearly fall back on top of each other in the process. It isn't until North and I are standing a good five feet away from each other that Wash finally gets a hold of himself and beckons us toward the door.

"Come on you two."

... ... ... ... ... ...

It doesn't surprise me, when we enter the infirmary, that Carolina is sitting by York's bedside. Her hatred of me, it makes sense if I remember that it bloomed when York got hurt during our first training session. It's obvious from what I've seen off duty that she really cares for him, maybe even loves him. Almost every time I've seen one of them on this ship, the other is with them, or at the very least, not far behind. The only problem I see is that Carolina won't admit her feelings to herself or anyone else. It's a pity really, York's gone to lengths to show her how much he cares for her without directly saying it, but she just rebuffs it. Her work always comes first.

Carolina, strapped in full body armor except for her head, glares at me as soon as she hears our loud footsteps in the clinic. She even moves her hand over York's unconcious midsection, like she is trying to shield him from me. I'm not hurt by the gesture, but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed. I was hoping that maybe telling her the truth about myself would make her let up a little, but apparently not.

So, not wanting to upset her any further, I stride over and lean on the wall opposite York's bed, about fifteen feet away. As I listen to Carolina tell Wash and North how he's doing, I reach my hands up and lift my helmet off of my head. We hadn't bothered to change out of our armor before coming over here.

"...went well. He should wake up in a few hours." I hear Carolina say as I place my helmet under my arm.

When they go quiet, I take the time to look over York's prone form when I notice something. I hesitate, not quite opening my mouth before I decide that they should know.

"You should put restraints on him." I say softly, trying to show my genuine concern, but also preparing myself for the inevitable feminine disapproval.

As predicted, Carolina shoots up out of her chair, anger flashing in her eyes, and spits, "Get out."

It's obvious she's been wanting to say that since the moment I walked in, she'd only been waiting for me to give her a reason to say it. However, not to be discouraged before I explain myself, I put my free hand up defensively and push myself off of the wall. "Look, I know what it's like waking up from an AI implantation. He's going to be confused and scared, he won't be able to control himself."

I try to make her see the logic in it, but whether or not she agrees, she was not going to give me the satisfaction of knowing. She takes a step towards me before saying, in a very low and dangerous voice, "_Get. Out. Now._"

I give her no verbal acknowledgement, choosing instead to let my hand drop to my side and glancing at Wash and North. Both of their heads are facing toward me, but with their helmets on, I can't tell what they are feeling underneath their masks.

Letting out a sight of defeat, I take one last look at York before I turn away and do not look back as I walk out of the quiet infirmary. Not waiting for the door to shut behind me, I turn to my right and begin my silent drudge to the locker room. With nothing to entertain me as I walk, I find it's not long before I hear heavy footfalls from behind. I stop and glance over my shoulder, my mood changing drastically into one of happiness when I see North making his way to me.

When he's a few feet away from me, he lifts off his helmet to reveal a large smile plastered on his face. "York won't be awake for awhile, so I was wondering if you maybe wanted to have lunch together?"

His stupid grin is contagious. Damn, everything about him is contagious.

"Sure, that sounds great."

* * *

_Good? Bad? Is this getting boring without any action? I can add more if you'd like._

_Also, I wanted to say that I promise that this won't turn into a story focused on romance. I just needed to lay the foundations and such._

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	14. Chapter 12

_Hmmm... I think you guys will like this one._

_I hope._

* * *

The exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks.

One moment, North and I are walking into the infirmary after our rather enjoyable lunch. The next, I find I can barely make it the chair closest to the door before I unceremoniously fall into it. When North hears the clunky sound of my armor hitting the seat he shoots me a concerned look, but I wave it off, wordlessly alerting him that it's nothing. He hesitates, taking a step towards me before slowly turning around and walking toward York's bed. I see that Wash and a, surprisingly calm, Carolina are still there as he finally sits down, but my focus does not linger on them. I open my eyes wide, forcing myself to stay alert as I shift my gaze to the white tiled ceiling.

I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights, but that shouldn't make me feel this worn down. I'm a Marine, I've gone through rigorous training to make sure I can stay awake for days. A few lost hours of sleep shouldn't be affecting me this much. Okay, well, maybe it's been more than a "few", but still.

"Close your eyes, Texas." I hear Omega coax softly from inside my head.

I had turned him on during lunch when North had cautiously asked if he could speak to Omega. I happily agreed to it, actually getting a lot of entertainment out of the conversation between the two that had ensued. However, right now, I can barely remember it through the fog that has begun to cloud my thoughts.

"What?" I say quietly, not wanting to draw the other's attention.

"You're tired. Get some rest." I hear him say a little more forcefully.

Moving my sights to the equally bland wall across from me, I vigorously rub my gloved hands over my bare face. "No, 'm not here ta' nap."

My words are slurred, but he immediately understands my meaning. I can feel his mental eye shift to the crowded bed. "I'll wake you up if he becomes conscious."

I try to deny his request again, but I find I can no longer find the words. My mind is a hazy, scrambled mess that can only process the words my AI is whispering into it.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs.

And I listen.

… … … … … …

I'm roused from my slumber by a piercing scream. I shoot up out of my chair, my helmet falling off my lap and onto the floor as I rapidly look around the room. Although, it takes almost no time for my eyes to land on York's bed. He's sitting bolt upright, clutching his head and screaming at the top of his lungs. Promptly realizing that Carolina didn't take my advice about the restraints, I sprint over and shove myself between Wash and North while Carolina stands on the opposite side of the bed. They are all frozen in place, completely at a loss for what to do.

"_Make it stop!_" York yells as he moves his hands to the back of his neck, trying to break open the newly sewn stitches.

Before he has time to do any real damage, I snatch both of his hands and bring them to his front and force them down on his lap. I watch as his eyes dart around the room, never seeing what's actually in front of him. His screams have stopped, but his breathing is haggard, still disoriented and terrified.

"York! _York!_" I try and get his attention, "Look at me!"

However, I quickly realize that he won't be able to focus on me. All he can hear is the new voice in his head. He needs something more potent. Or, rather, someone.

"Carolina!" I say and her petrified gaze moves to me, "I need you to get him to focus on you."

When she doesn't move, I hastily implore, "_Now!_"

That seems to pull her from her trance, quickly taking his hands out of mine and putting them in her own. Once she has a good grip, she moves both of his hands into one of hers and uses her free one to softly hold his cheek and force him to look at her.

"York, hey look," she says in a tender voice that I've never heard before, "it's me. It's Carolina."

His reaction is immediate, his attention swiftly moving to her face. "Ca—Carolina?"

No longer having to forcibly hold his head in place, her action becomes more of a caress. "Yeah. Yeah it's me. You're okay."

He smiles at her as best he can, his teeth only starting to show, before his eyes roll to the back of his head and he passes out. To my left, Wash reaches out and stops him from falling while Carolina does the same from the other side. Together, they gently lay him back down in the bed.

There is a small moment of quiet, the others looking down at his form before I angrily blurt out, "What did I fucking _tell you?_"

I don't know where it came from, but I suddenly find myself extremely pissed off at the teal clad woman across from me. I told her that this was going to happen, but she didn't listen, just to spite me. It's _pathetic_… _She's _pathetic.

I can't believe I didn't notice it before.

"Hey!" she starts to defend herself, "We were standing _right here_. We didn't need them!"

With my rage rising with every passing second, I whip away from the two Freelancers beside me and stalk to the foot of the bed. "Did you miss what just happened there? He almost _ripped it out of his head!_"

I vaguely hear Wash and North tell us to calm down, but neither of us pay them any attention. Instead, Carolina mimics my motion, walking up to my figure and standing so close that our naked faces are only inches apart. The fire between our locked gazes is practically radiating heat.

"Maybe that would be a good thing." She's no longer yelling, now keeping her voice low and austere, "From what I can tell, those things do nothing but destroy their host until they're _nothing but a shell_."

Looking down on her slightly shorter form, I take a deep breath, trying to control the swelling fury in my head.

...

It doesn't work.

Throwing caution and sense into the wind, I launch the first punch, landing it straight in her gut. She falls back a few steps, shocked from the unexpected blow, before her face contorts into resolution and sprints at me. I crouch into a ready position as she lifts her arm and attempts to punch me in my exposed face. However, I duck under it, using her momentum to force me backwards on the ground and use my legs to fling her towards the door behind me.

I hear her crash into the door as I get to my feet, but before I can approach her, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I freeze, seeing the purple armored glove out of the corner of my eye before he speaks.

"Stop, before this gets any worse." North's voice isn't stern, only showing concern as he addresses me.

I feel as if something is off inside me, I have since the moment I woke up only a few minutes ago, but I can't find it in myself to care. Right now, all that matters is that Carolina gets what's been coming to her. I shrug his hand off my shoulder and before he has time to do anything more, I race to Carolina, who's now steady on her feet.

As we engage again, I study her fighting style. It's quick, focused on small periodic jabs while my own is focused more on power. I maintain a strong defense, blocking each of her punches and kicks that she throws my way, waiting for my opening to strike. However, I soon find that I may have underestimated her.

While waiting for my moment, she lands a solid knee to my stomach causing me to bend over slightly. Using this opportunity to her advantage, Carolina delivers a right handed uppercut, successfully hitting me square in the mouth. I'm airborne for only a moment before my body slams into the ground. As I rise to my hands and knees, I spit some of the metallic blood that had begun to pool in my mouth onto the floor. Staying in that position, I slowly look to my right and see as Carolina starts to tear towards me.

When she gets close enough, she pulls her leg back to kick me while I'm down, but I see the move coming. When she tries to execute it, I swiftly reach out with my robotic right hand, completely stopping her motion with no recoil on my part. I can see the shock on her face at the act, but I waste no time in pulling her down to my level while she's off balance. When her back hits the floor, I quickly jump on top of her and straddle her midsection, wanting to look her in the eye. With her arms pinned underneath my legs, I see fear flash across her face before it becomes hard again.

"_Break her jaw._" I hear Omega's harsh voice in my ear.

I see in tunnel vision as I bring my left hand back and do the voice's bidding, quickly thrusting it down on her face. I feel her jaw dislocate under my hand as she lets out a loud grunt of pain.

"_Now finish her._" he says, his tone cold and calculated.

Again, I automatically bring back my hand, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel something trying to break free. I hesitate, focusing on the anomaly, but I end up not having much time to do so when Omega invades my thoughts again, urging me on. I shake my head, trying to clear it as the small sensation suddenly becomes stronger, commanding my attention. It takes me a moment to realize that it is talking to me as well.

"You don't want to do this." the somehow familiar voice whispers calmly.

"_Yes you do!_" Omega screams, "_She deserves it!_"

"Get up and walk away." the new voice speaks again, becoming more dominant by the second.

"Stop her!" I think I hear Wash's voice from a distance, but it sounds fuzzy and disconnected.

"_End her!_" Omega bellows, furious with my pause.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to distinguish the voices inside my head from the ones outside it, but I'm unable. It's all becoming a giant blur of sound and it's not long before I can't take it anymore.

"_SHUT UP!_" I scream at everything and everyone as I thrust my primed hand down and hit the ground right next to Carolina's head. **  
**

Keeping my eyes closed, cooling relief engulfs me when everything abruptly goes quiet, the only sound entering my ears being the combined breathing of Carolina and myself. I let out a quivering huff of air before I open my eyes and look down at the woman underneath me. Her expression is a mixture of pain and confusion as she lays there, unmoving. I feel guilt constrict my throat when I move my sights the tiniest bit over, catching the evident dislocated jaw in my vision.

It's in this moment that a hand suddenly clutches my shoulder again. I peek at the color of it, not surprised when I see North's signature purple armor covering the glove. As I glance at the comforting touch, I suddenly understand why the voice that had been combating with Omega was so familiar. It was North, he was calling out to me. His hand squeezes me ever so slightly when I hang my head in shame.

Omega must have found a way to lodge himself deep into my consciousness while I was asleep earlier. I had played straight into his hands when I let him convince me to take a rest.

God, I'm such an idiot.

"Omega," I croak, blood still present in my mouth and throat, "log off."

Without a single peep from the arduous AI, the tingle that is ever present while he is online goes away. My mind now my own again, I suddenly realize that my whole body is violently shaking, but whether it's from what I almost did or the aftermath of Omega's strong influence, I have no idea. Maybe it's both.

North's hand gently slides off of my body as I slowly stand up and step away from Carolina. All is quiet as I begin to walk towards the chair that I had previously occupied and notice that Wash is still sitting next to York's bed. He was probably protecting York in case Carolina or myself accidentally got too close.

I look away from them once I arrive at my destination and grasp the plastic chair. There is a loud scooching sound as I clumsily drag it to the corner closest to the now dented door. Turning it so that it faces the room, I firmly grab the backrest and turn my body before slowly and deliberately sitting down.

Once seated, I look up at the now standing forms of North and Carolina. I almost expected to see the look of worry on North's face, but what I didn't expect was the same look plastered on Carolina's face. She's staring at me with diffused eyes and holding her jaw delicately, but seeing her this way only makes me feel worse. They shouldn't be worrying about me, it's supposed to be the other way around. It's always supposed to be the other way around.

"I'm sorry." I murmur to anyone who's listening, regret consuming me as I let my head fall into my waiting hands.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Are you happy now?_

_This one goes out to pepergirl001 and Scourge From BloodClan. I hadn't planned on having this happen, but your reviews gave me the idea and this chapter actually provided something that I was trying to find a way to sneak in. You guys don't know what it is yet, but it actually helps strengthen a later plot point. So, thanks :)_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	15. Chapter 13

_I don't have much else to say other than: Enjoy!_

_And, well, that I'll proofread again when I get home. Heh._

* * *

I don't know how long I sit in the chair, static, eyes closed, and with my blonde hair buried deep in my hands. It could have been thirty seconds, or maybe even half an hour, I really don't know. In fact, the only thing I do know is that nobody has dared approach me, or even speak to me since I took my seat in the corner. Blood periodically drips from my mouth, staining the ground below me in a rust red, but I don't care. Half of my brain is blank, numb and burnt out, while the other keeps trying to convince me to rip the AI out of my head like York had tried. Although, the rational part of me knew that any attempt at that would be futile.

The metal implant is permanent, completely intertwined with my brain stem and impossible to remove without a very high risk of death. The chip inserted into the metal implant containing Omega, on the other hand, is very removable. The only problem is that when they tried to remove him those months ago, they found his chip blank, wiped completely clean. The doctors thought that he had self terminated, but in reality, he had moved his code somewhere else entirely. To this day, I don't know exactly where he went, but the Director told me that he must have quietly jumped into another Freelancer's armor slot. It makes sense I suppose.

I do not flinch when I hear the dented door suddenly open and a stampede of people come running into the infirmary. I hear their voices, wild and confused as they sprint by me, not noticing my still existence. Based on their questions and concerns to the others, there's no doubt in my mind that they are medics, but whether they were called or they simply heard the disturbance, I don't know.

"Hey, there's another one over there!" An unfamiliar female voice breaks through the rest of the noise.

Guessing it's me that she's referring to, my hands twitch, unconsciously digging my fingers deeper into my scalp. I lick my lips, getting the excess blood into my mouth before spitting the contents onto the already stained floor. I'm slow as I place my right forearm on my thigh before finally opening my eyes and glancing up at the room.

Wash and Carolina are over by York's bed, medics scrambling around them in a blur. One of them is inspecting Carolina's jaw, but most of them are focused on York and asking Wash what happened. I only get a very short glance at North's form, leaning against the wall across the way before the medic who had noticed me invades my vision.

"Let me see that." she says immediately, pointing at my mouth.

Knowing how fantastically annoying these people can be about our health, I oblige, lifting my head and opening my mouth. Grabbing my jaw herself to get a better look, I watch as her brown eyes search the opening before she quickly takes out a white cloth from her first aid kit. Without warning, she shoves the material in my mouth, almost gagging me.

"That should stop the bleeding." she says before taking a step back and looking me over. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

I glare at her before I deliberately take the cloth out of my mouth and deadpan, "No."

Pursing her lips slightly, she looks over me one more time before turning on her heel and stalking back to the bed. I watch for only a moment as she goes before I look down and grimace slightly at the cloth in my hand. Using my finger to be more precise about where to clot the blood, I grudgingly put it back in my mouth before standing up.

"Arg!" I hear Carolina's cry of pain and whip my head in her direction.

The adrenaline that had pumped through me with that one heartbeat quickly dissipates when I see that a medic is firmly gripping her jaw. She must have just had it realigned. However, as I look over at her and Wash, I notice something else entirely. I take the smallest step toward them as I study the new irregularity.

There are padded shackles around York's wrists, strapped to the metal railings on the side of his bed. Air escapes through my nose as the left side of my lips twitch upward in amusement. Carolina must have finally listened to me about the restraints.

My sights automatically flicker to the red haired woman again and I see that she has now received ice for her injury. She must have felt my eyes on her because she glances up at me from the foot of York's bed. We lock gazes for a moment, void of any true emotion before she easily pulls away and continues to listen to the medic speaking in front of her.

I sigh before I turn and head towards the door. I might as well give the Director my incident report now, before he gets the chance to scold me in public.

... ... ... ... ... ...

_Knock Knock Knock_

My brows immediately furrow at the sound coming from the entrance of my dark room. I flicker my gaze to the bright clock on my desk, reading that it's just past two o'clock in the morning before looking at the door again. I haven't been able to sleep tonight, but if memory serves, this still was not an appropriate time for someone to be knocking on my door.

Rather curious about my night time visitor, I push myself out of my sitting position on the bed and walk over to the metal door. Keeping my torso away from the cold metal, I lean my head very close to the closed entryway.

"Who—" my voice cracks so I clear my throat slightly, "Who is it?"

There is a small pause before a voice hesitantly calls out, "It's me."

If it is even possible, my eyebrows dive even deeper, forming a V on my forehead. I quickly check to make sure that Omega is turned off before opening my door to reveal my visitor.

"Carolina?" I say, confused, as I hastily look her over and try and get a read on her mood.

She appears placid enough with her hands behind her back and in her t-shirt and sweatpants, but I don't let my guard down. The right side of her face is swollen, no doubt my doing, but I try not to linger on the thought when she starts to speak again.

"You, uh, left this in the infirmary." She murmurs as she brings out her burdened hands for me to see.

There, laying in her palms, is my white helmet. I take a moment to quickly run through the events of today and am shocked when I realize that I did, in fact, leave it in the infirmary. Not only that, but I'm shocked that she even thought to bring it to me, even if it is in the middle of the night.

"Oh." I state dumbly as I gently reach out and take the obvious peace offering, "Thanks."

I drop my right arm and let the helmet hang loosely on my finger tips before looking up at her again. Her eyes are studying me, searching for something she seems unable to find. The sensation is actually familiar, a lot like when—

"Your AI, Omega," she cuts off my thought and crosses her arms, "are they all like him?"

My head tilts to the side as I contemplate her abrupt question. "What do you mean?"

"Can they all influence their host, like Omega does to you? Because he turns you into a bona fide O'Malley." she patiently clarifies.

Ignoring her question for the moment, I chuckle and shake my head slightly. "A bona fide what?"

"O'Malley." She repeats, obviously trying to hold back a smile of her own, "Grace O'Malley, a she-pirate in the early days of Earth. Killed anyone who stood in the way of her goals."

My face quickly falls at her words before I finally relax my stance and lean against the doorframe. "Yeah, sounds about right."

There is a short pause as Carolina waits for me to actually answer her question though. This is intriguing, having a civil conversation with her, a nice change of pace. It makes me wonder if maybe we'll actually be able to get along someday.

I move my eyes to the ground for a moment before I feel I can meet her gaze again. "I have no idea if the others are like him. I mean, I've fixed most of the problems, and I'm assuming that they'll program the new ones differently. But each set up is different, no two AI fragments are the same."

When I finish, I watch as her eyes glaze over and her mind flies to a faraway place. I don't feel awkward as she quietly thinks, taking the time to turn and quickly chuck my helmet onto my bed before facing her again. Leaning against the doorframe, I cross both my arms and legs as I wait for her response.

Then, just as quickly as she left, her eyes snap back into focus and she speaks the unexpected yet again. "I don't hate you, you know."

I stay still, baffled by her words as I flatly reiterate, "You don't."

"I don't." she shifts her weight in an uncomfortable manner, "I don't particularly _like_ you, but I don't hate you."

I incline my head in understanding and slowly run my hand through my hair. "Fair enough."

She gives me a jerky nod before taking a sharp turn to her right and heading down the hall without another word. Following her example, I take a few steps into my room, but then suddenly stop and stick my head out the open door. I have no neighbors, so it doesn't matter if I yell.

She's just about to turn the corner as I call out to her. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm on probation."

She pauses, turning to face me once again and shoots me a distanced smile. "You know what?"

I do not move when she turns back around and starts to walk around the bend.

"It kinda does."

* * *

_Good? Bad? Should I find another setting for these people? I should find another setting to put them in._

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks :)_


	16. Chapter 14

_SO MUCH SPONTANEOUS INSPIRATION!_

_Seriously though. It's nuts._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**_One month later..._**

My panting is shallow as North and I run through the Mother of Invention's main hanger to get to his transport. For every step his freakishly long legs make, I have to take two. It's quite annoying actually.

We slow down as we approach his pelican, only pausing completely when I reach out and grab his shoulder. The rest of the his Freelancer team is looking at us through the opening in the back of the ship as he turns to face me, but I do not drop my hand.

"You'd better not die on me, alright?" I say, unable to help myself.

"Of course not." he gladly answers as he pulls away from me and jumps on the pelican. "That would mean missing our daily brawl, and we can't have that now can we?"

On the ground, I shake my head in good humor as he grabs the some of the rafters above his head. 479er, the female pilot of their transport, doesn't bother to close the back ramp as she slowly lifts the metal monster off of the ground. Before they get very high, however, North leans out of the opening and calls out to me.

"Oh! One more thing!" he yells through the open radio in our helmets, competing with the loud flight engines.

"What?" I ask, my head dropping when I automatically lift my hand up to the side of my helmet.

"I'm getting an AI!" he says and I promptly look back up at his guilty form. I can imagine the mischievous grin on his face as he teasingly waves goodbye from the airborne ship.

"Wha— _North!_" I call out accusingly as the back ramp finally begins to close.

Thinking quickly, I grab a tin can of unknown contents from the top of one of the supply boxes nearby and chuck it in his direction. It's trajectory is spot on, sailing through the shrinking gap, but he snatches it out of the air before it gets the chance to hit him. The door closes before I see his reaction, so I settle for glaring at the retreating ship, annoyed. I watch as the pelican shoots out of the hanger before I turn on my heel and run toward the exit, grumbling incoherently. That's one hell of a way to tell me he's getting an AI fragment.

There have been two other implants since York had acquired his AI, Delta, a month ago. Carolina was actually next in line for the opportunity to have one, but she had turned it down, insisting that Maine get it. She argued that Maine needed it because his injury from our last mission in the city has left him, literally, with no voice. A good enough reason in any case, but something tells me that there is still more to that story. Either way, Maine isn't healthy enough to go back out and fight, but at least now he can communicate with the help of his fragment, Sigma.

A week after that came Gamma, who was paired with Wyoming. It's actually been quite interesting to watch as York, Maine, and Wyoming adapt to having a new voice in their head. On occasion, I've even caught York seemingly talking to himself when really Delta is inside his head, listening to every word. In fact, the easy going way York's been able to handle Delta has made me question if it's only just Omega and myself who are messed up.

I turn my focus back to my surroundings when I get close to my destination: the bridge of the giant space ship. I slow my run down to a fast walk as I approach the door and punch the button in order to enter. Once open, I step into the giant room and control my breathing as I make my way towards the Director's standing form.

There are crewman talking all around me, making sure that the ship stays alert and ready for anything. I look out of the giant reinforced glass wall in front of us and see all kinds of space junk flying around outside. Apparently, the leader of the Resistance is hiding out somewhere in this scrap yard, so everyone is prepped for a fight. The only reason I'm not out there hunting this bastard with the others is because I'm still on probation.

"Agent Texas." the Director says without even turning to make sure it was me approaching him.

"Sir." I salute to his back while he continues to study the button panel in front of him.

"I," he starts as he reaches down and presses one of the touch keys, "have something I need you to do for the duration of this inevitable conflict."

"Just name it." I say immediately, eager to please my superior.

He hits one more button before finally turning to face me, stroking his chin. "You are well aware that there is a mole in our ranks."

He states it as fact and I nod my head in affirmative. He had told me that someone was feeding information to the Insurrectionists the day that he had put me on probation. He would not divulge very much information to me at the time, but he did tell me that he had started to narrow down who it was. He hasn't spoken about it to me again until now though.

"There is something important that I need you to guard while I am focused on what is going on out here. Under no circumstances can the mole be able to get their hands on it while I am not paying attention." he says before gesturing towards my form, "Which is where you come in."

Staying stiff with my hands down by my side, I silently wait for him to continue. I feel it's a gross waste of my talents to stick me on guard duty, but I'm in no position to argue.

"Report to storage unit A, don't let anyone in and do not leave until I call you away." He glances at me over his glasses for a moment before speaking again, "Now go."

"Yes sir." I answer and promptly turn away to do my newly assigned job.

... ... ... ... ... ...

There is a clicking sound as I take the clip out of my pistol and recheck my ammo in boredom. I'm sitting on the ground, leaning up against one of the many raised dashboards lining the dark storage room. I have no idea what any of the buttons do, so I've been left to my own devices to keep myself occupied while on guard.

"You need to stay focused." Omega implores, suddenly appearing on my shoulder as a hologram.

I flicker my vision to the camera screen in the corner that shows the hall just outside, but see no change. The assault on the Mother of Invention from the Insurrectionist fleet had stopped about a minute ago, but I haven't heard any radio chatter. No doubt that's what made the AI speak up against his better judgment.

"You know what?" I say irritably, aggravated only by the mere sound of his voice. "You can just shut the fuck up and log off."

He does not hesitate to follow the direct order, quickly extinguishing his existence in my head for the time being. I let out huff of frustration, bending my left leg in towards my body while quietly laying my head on the metal behind me. I close my eyes, trying to will the bad mood away that seems ever present as of late.

"Damn. And I thought I was mean."

My eyes fly open at the voice and I'm up on my feet in half a second, spinning completely around with both my pistols drawn. My trigger fingers are primed, ready to kill whoever had the balls to sneak up on me. However, I freeze in stupefaction when I find myself face to face with a miniature AI hologram holding an animated sniper rifle. He's standing on top of the dashboard I had just been leaning against. His unfamiliar form looks from my helmet to my pistols and then back again.

"Oh yeah, shoot the AI's hologram. That oughta do the trick." The sarcasm is heavy in his voice as he addresses me.

I keep my pistols raised for another moment before I limply let them fall to my sides. "Who the fuck are you?"

He full out laughs in my face before answering me. Kind of. "Ah, you got the shitty end of the stick man!"

_BANG!_

"Son of a bitch!" he yells, startled, as my bullet goes through his fake body.

He disappears for a moment before reappearing in front of me, now a full, human sized hologram. His choice of armor is the same exact model as mine, only, he seems to be radiating a light blue color. He only stands a few inches away from the barrel as he glares at me and my one smoking gun, silently demanding an explanation.

Keeping my gun raised, I casually shrug, "Oops."

I like to imagine that he's seething underneath that helmet right now. I don't have the patience for this guy's bullshit at the moment.

"Now, I'm going to ask you again." I growl as I smoothly readjust my grip on the gun, "Who are you?"

"Okay, geez fine." he surrenders and puts his hands up in the air, all the while still holding that useless sniper rifle. "I'm not actually allowed to tell you my name, but I can say that I'm the guy you were sent here to protect."

I narrow my eyes at the entity in front of me as I debate the merit of his words. As far as I know, the Resistance doesn't have any AI's at its disposal. Also, it makes sense that the Director would want me to protect one of his precious creations. This may even be the one that North is going to get. I give him one more look over before I relax my stance.

"Yeah, well," I say as I finally holster my pistols and turn away from him to check the security cameras, "fuckin' lead with that next time. Then I won't shoot you."

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk over to the monitors and scroll through the cameras. I try to ignore him, but I soon find myself swiping the touch screen harder and harder in irritation under his gaze. It's like he burning a hole in the back of my head with his imaginary irises.

Boiling over very quickly, I slam my hands on both sides of the touch screen and glance over my shoulder. "_What?_"

He's still standing where I left him, but now he's unnecessarily leaning against the control panel. "You're one sour bitch, aren't you?"

My face scrunches up in annoyance at his words, not because he said it, but because they're true. Ever since the day in the infirmary, when Omega had almost completely taken over my mind, I've just been so angry all the time. In the past month, I've lashed out on everyone at least once, even North. It's actually starting to scare me.

I had confided in the Director about it a few weeks ago, informed him about how I thought it was connected to my AI, but he had insisted that it wasn't and that I keep using Omega on a regular basis. He wants me to be able to use the AI fragment out in the field with the team without fear of him taking me over. Even to the point where the Director's ordered me to use him in every training session for the past week. The only problem with that is that it's been completely counterproductive. Luckily, there haven't been any real incidents since the one with Carolina, but I feel like the more I use Omega, the more I'm becoming like him. It's actually making me more susceptible to his influence rather than the other way around.

Shaking my head to rid my mind of these thoughts, I turn to face the blue AI, planning on apologizing for my behavior. My attempt is foiled though, when a pilot's voice rings out through the speakers in the walls.

"Crewmen, be advised, we are about to enter slipspace."

I waste no time in bracing myself on the table behind me for the slight jerk that the ship makes when jumping up to speed. Mere seconds pass before I'm met with the predicted jolt, feeling my body react the physics of space. Once the quick movement is gone, the ship smoothes out and I let go of the metal.

"I wonder why we jumped?" I voice my thoughts, letting our previous conversation die off as I approach the unmoving AI hologram.

He shrugs when I join him and lean on the dashboard close by. "Could be anything. I would find out for us, but the Director cut me off from the ship's interface before we engaged the Resistance."

"'Sucks," I mumble, looking down at my boots.

I only find consolation in the fact that, if something was really going wrong, the Director would send me out. Probation or not, I'm still his number one soldier.

"What the hell just happened people?" The sound of the Director's voice, loud and clear through my radio, makes up jump up in surprise. It actually takes me a few seconds to realize that he's not talking to me. He's using the frequency that goes out to all the Freelancer soldiers.

"Tell me you accomplished your mission." His voice rings out again, obviously directing his focus to the assault group that North's a part of.

"Negative sir," Carolina is the one to answer, "their leader escaped."

There is a long pause before the Director calls through again, his tone displeased. "That is most unfortunate. Are all Agents accounted for?"

This is the part where I listen in entirely, silently trying to prepare myself for the worst. They're Freelancers, there's a reason that they weren't able to accomplish their mission and there's a very high chance that it was because they lost someone.

"All except CT sir." Carolina responds, using Connecticut's long established nickname. "She's gone."

"Hey, what's going on?" The blue AI asks when I sigh sadly, momentarily pulling my attention away from the radio conversation.

"CT's gone." I answer and swiftly put my focus back on the radio. The way Carolina had said it, her tone, she didn't make it sound like CT was dead.

I had missed what the Director had said a moment ago, but Carolina tells me all I need to know anyways. "CT vanished right after we got inside. I think she's our mole."

I fell my heart sink at Carolina's words. I hadn't got to spend much time with the small woman, but she seemed like a good person. To think that she would do this to the program, to her teammates...

"Ow!" I yell in pain when the earpieces in the sides of my helmet inexplicably blows out. My hands shoot up instinctively to my head as my ears ring in response to the brief high pitched noise.

"N... Nobody told me." Through muffled ears, I hear the devastation in the large AI's voice next to me as he speaks.

I look up, confused by his words, and that's when I see it. His hologram is... pulsing, disrupting the electronics around him in his sudden onset of distress. I glance around the room, watching as all of the mechanics come to life, becoming over bright, and then die again at the will of this AI. I look back at the hologram by my side and can easily sense his panic.

"If some... somebody had told me. I... I could have..." His voice trails off and he falls to the ground, the energy quivering around him even stronger than before.

"Woah." I take a step toward the unstable AI when my HUD starts to malfunction. "_Woah_. Hey, it's okay."

I know I'm grasping at straws, but I don't know what else to do. His head jerks up at me when he registers my voice, refusing to calm down. "No, it's not okay. If he... had just given me some time, I could have saved her—"

Quickly realizing the misplaced source of his distress, I cut him off. "CT's alive!"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" he abruptly screams at the top of his lungs and I'm nearly shoved back by the resounding wave that blows off him.

My hands fly outward as I steady myself before I crouch down to his level and look at him. The objects around the room have started to spark and make inexplicable sounds, so I have to yell and compete with their noise. "Why would I lie to you? You can trust me!"

"TRUST _YOU_?!" his voice is becoming distorted somehow, higher pitched as he addresses me. "I JUST MET YOU! HOW CAN I _TRUST_ YOU?!"

At this point, I really want him to stop yelling, but that's the least of my worries as I try to get as close as I can to him without actually touching him. The HUD of my helmet is going haywire, blocking my vision completely at times, as I take a moment to try and think of a way to calm him down. The only problem is that my mind keeps going around in circles, unable to come up with the right words to say.

I rove my hands over his form, never quite making contact as I start to panic as well. He's destroying most of the equipment in here, including my suit, and I can't do anything about it.

"Get out of there Texas!" the Director's voice suddenly calls out through the few still functioning speakers in the room, getting my attention.

"But—"

"_Now!_" There's no way he could have actually heard my rebuttal, but not one to ignore an order, I stand up and sprint to the door.

In my haste, I nearly crush the button to open the door, but fortunately, it still worked and I'm able to immediately step out of the room. Before the door shuts behind me, I turn and look at the troubled AI on the floor.

He almost looks like a child, having adopted an upward fetal position. Along with the rhythmic pulsing of his uncontrolled power, his image keeps flashing from his normal blue color to a kind of pink. I almost want to go back in and comfort the poor thing.

Almost.

"Uf!" I grunt in surprise when I'm unexpectedly shoved up against the side of the hall.

"Coming through," a mechanic says unapologetically as he and a few others elbow by me and into the room with some equipment I've never seen before.

Following very close behind these people are the Councilor and the Director. The Councilor inclines his head in greeting as he walks by me, but the Director stops just short of the door.

He turns to face me, blocking my view of the decaying storage room. "You are to report directly to my office immediately. Do not talk to anyone, do not even look at anyone until I come and debrief you there. Is that understood?"

"Yeah, but—" he only stays focused on me long enough to hear my agreement before turning around and shutting the door in my face.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Who's you guys' favorite RvB Freelancer? Just curious :)_

_Please inform me of any mistakes. Thanks! :)_


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